


Heatwave

by LaughingStones



Category: Motorcity
Genre: (kinda), Anal Sex, Anxiety, Biting, Careful Consent, Come play, Consent Negotiation, Dubious Consent, Fingering, Hair-pulling, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mike's not sure what he's doing in the middle of it, Minor Violence, Multi, Oral Sex, Pegging, Poly Burners, Polyamory, Rayon and the Duke have a lot of hatesex, Relationship Negotiation, Scent Marking, Thanks to Splickedylit for letting me borrow her version of werewolves spelling and all, Theirs is a beautiful kismesissitude, background relationships Julie/Claire and Dutch/Tennie, brief voyeurism/exhibitionism, romantic confessions, so much sex dear god, werewolf instincts, werewolf!Mike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 86,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: In which Mike is a werewolf and doesn’t think this going into heat thing is legit. So, he’s kinda confused as to why he needs sex so much today. Fortunately he finds some folks to help him out.(Too bad the Duke is one of them.)It turns out heat kinda sucks. (Or maybe that's just having the Duke around.)Until Mike gets home and the Burners find out...





	1. The kid is somethin' else

**Author's Note:**

> Blessings on SpoonerizeSwiftness, Curlicuecal and Roachpatrol for being such lovely betas! I'm so lucky!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a lot of heat fic, it's only technically dub-con; everyone's very clearly enjoying themselves. That's not always the case in this chapter.

Mike isn't feeling so hot.

Well, that's not really right, it's more that he’s _too_ hot, this constant driving burn of need that's slipped under his skin and won't go away. He's jacked off way more times in a row than would usually work and it barely touched the want. In desperation, (because Mike's got no issue with taking it, but when he's by himself he'd rather skip the prep and cleanup a dildo requires), he finally took out the one sex toy he owns and rode it until he was sore, and _that_ pushed back the need… for about an hour. (If he didn't have the wer resilience and healing factor, he'd be walking funny. Although if he was human, would he even be having this problem? He wishes he knew.)

He's losing his mind. More importantly, he's a fingernail’s grip away from losing his self-control, which is why he climbs into Mutt and takes off without a word to anyone. Because there's not a single one of the Burners he doesn't want, and if he asks any of them for help he's got the uneasy suspicion they'd say yes out of obligation. The idea makes him sick.

He doesn't know where he's going. He just drives.

*

Rayon is in negotiations with the Duke this afternoon, which is to say they talked business for about ten minutes in Rayon’s private lounge and then the Duke started making comments about how Rayon runs his gang and Rayon rolled his eyes and made some remarks about the Duke’s singing voice and things got less cordial from there. Rayon gives it another few minutes of sniping before one of them shoves the other into a wall, at which point either the Duke will storm out and retreat to his mansion to sulk, or they'll lock the door and work off some mutual frustration like a couple of horny teenagers. It's possible Rayon should consider the latter option below him, but it's happened enough times by now to recognize a pattern. The Duke is just so irritating he gets under Rayon’s skin no matter how cool he keeps his face, and the desire to mess him up is annoyingly tempting.

The Duke leans forward to sneer in Rayon’s face. “From someone with such a pathetically pedestrian sense of fashion, this ignorance really shouldn't surprise me.”

Rayon lifts one eyebrow, smile unchanged because of the two men in this room, only one is hella sharply dressed, while the other looks like a jogger who crashed through a theater's costume department and kept going. He's about to mention this when the door opens. No knock, no hesitation, and Rayon’s about to have sharp words for whichever of his boys has forgotten himself when Mike Chilton steps in, unescorted.

Behind his shades, Rayon closes his eyes briefly. Looks like he's got to tighten up security again, dammit. Not like he minds a visit from the leader of the Burners, but he prefers some warning.

“Mike,” he says mildly, “nice to see you. Unfortunately I'm a little busy just now--”

“Why, Mr. Chilton!” the Duke interrupts, and Rayon shoots him a cold look. Naturally he completely ignores it, going on in a tone of delight, “What brings you to Rayon’s… _fine_ establishment… looking so undone?”

Rayon’s gaze snaps back to Mike. Huh. The kid is actually noticeably disheveled. And it goes beyond the messy hair and the untucked shirt--even from across the room, his teeth look too sharp, his eyes wolfish gold. Mike's usually real careful to appear human, doesn't like to unnerve people with the wer look. He keeps himself under control unless he's really worked up. Could be something big’s gone down.

Mike stops short, staring at the Duke. “I didn't know _he’d_ be here,” he says to Rayon, whose eyebrows snap up. Not only is that pretty rude by the kid’s normal easygoing standards, but there's a hint of growl under his voice. Something is definitely wrong if he's lost his grip by that much.

The Duke would normally cut in again to protest, so Rayon is pleased that for once he's too busy looking intrigued to go into his usual theatrics. “Like I said, I'm busy at the moment,” Rayon says, “but if you need somethin’ I'm sure one of my boys can help you out.”

Mike moves closer, lip curling at the Duke in a brief snarl before he shakes it away and turns to Rayon. His face is flushed and he looks grim. “They might have to. I… I do need help.”

“Goodness gracious, such an admission!” the Duke carols.

Rayon’s eyes narrow, flicking over Mike's face as he checks the facts against his sudden conclusion. Blown pupils, flushed and a little sweaty, looking blatantly wer instead of human, and then there's the taut, restless way he's standing, moving. Rayon’s seen that before (only in passing, and only a few times, but it sticks in the mind). “Mike,” he says, “are you in heat?”

Yellow-gold eyes go round. “Am I wha--? No, that's--no? Isn't that a myth?”

“Deluxians,” the Duke mourns, “so charmingly naive.”

Rayon kind of has to agree, except he'd put it ‘kept alarmingly ignorant’. “No myth,” he says. “What did you _figure_ was goin’ on?”

Kid looks to be in shock, staring at nothing. “I dunno, I thought I was--sick, except I don't get sick--I… don't know.”

“So, what,” Rayon sighs, “you were hopin’ for medicine?”

That brings Mike's gaze back to his face, and sharp teeth flash in a wry grin. “Oh! Nah, I just thought I'd deal with it the easy way, figured someone in your gang would agree to sleep with me.”

A resounding silence settles over the room, and then the Duke leans slowly to the side and says to Rayon out of the corner of his mouth, “Just as a matter of curiosity, are you currently accepting membership applications? I am abruptly interested in this employment opportunity.”

“No,” Rayon says. Both he and the Duke are staring at Mike, because holy hell, this kid. “Man,” Rayon says to him, “that's the dumbest idea I've heard all week. You shouldn't even be out here in this state. Get your ass back to your skinny boyfriend and let him take care of you. What, the two of you on the outs or somethin’?”

Mike's eyes widen again, but only briefly before he laughs a little. “Who, Chuck? We're not--he's--we're just friends,” he says, and his smile dims. The Duke snorts loudly and Rayon can hardly disagree. Oh man, teenage romantic drama. No way the ‘just friends’ state of affairs is gonna last much longer, especially not with Mike like this. “Anyway, what's so dumb about it?” the kid goes on. “Obviously I need to sleep with _someone_.”

“Look, Mike,” Rayon says as patiently as he can, “for one thing, it's not gonna be that simple. See, a wer’s heat--”

“What,” Mike says, like he didn't even notice Rayon was talking, staring from him to the Duke and back, “What is that--oh. You want me?” His nostrils flare as he inhales, sniffing curiously. “You do. You both do.” He tilts his head a little, bright eyes thoughtful on Rayon’s face. “Huh.”

Yeah, well, neither of them is dead, Mike Chilton is a damn fine looking young man, and he's looking for someone to jump him; of course they're both thinking about it. No major shocks there. Always a little annoying when the wolfy smartasses think they can read minds, but Rayon can handle annoying. Doggedly he goes on trying to explain the facts of life to a horny teenager. “Man, a one-night-stand isn't gonna do it. What you need is--”

“Okay, but that's what's on offer, so do you want one?” Mike says, shrugging. God _damn_ but he knows how to cut off an argument. If Rayon wasn't so skilled at keeping his cool he might be annoyed at being interrupted repeatedly by the little punk--except it's hard to contemplate annoyance with that offer on the table.

“What, _both_ of us?” Rayon has to pause, because damn this kid's got him off-balance. “You were snarling at him a minute ago,” he points out, jerking his head at the Duke.

“Obviously he changed his mind!” the Duke says quickly. Practically scrambling to get in Mike's pants, no chill at all. The man is straight-up shameless, quick to discard his pride as soon as it doesn't serve him, and Rayon can't help the slight twist of his lip.

Mike’s opinion seems equally poor as he watches the Duke coolly. “I wouldn't go _that_ far,” he says. “But I might agree not to kick you out of bed--if you can make it worth my while.”

“Oooh, it's a deal!” the Duke says. “Babe, you'll be singing my name out all night long.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “We'll see who's saying whose name,” he says, more casually than the taunt it sounds like, like it barely matters to him how it turns out. He looks at Rayon. “So?”

Rayon lets a long breath out through his nose. “I'm assumin’ you've done this before.”

Mike blinks at him, plainly confused, and Rayon has to wonder again how he survives so open and unguarded. Well, no, he knows the answer to that; Mike makes it on pure guts and a will that never backs down. “What, heat?” Mike says.

Rayon doesn't bother to roll his eyes behind his shades. “Pretty obviously not, seein’ as you didn't even know what it was. You were still in Deluxe last year, it musta been suppressed, like everything else up there. No, I meant sex. Tell me you ain't a virgin.”

“Oh! Haha, nah. I've had plenty of sex. Not so much recently, but yeah.”

Rayon nods, tries to think it through, pros and cons of doing this, but he's fooling himself if he thinks any con is going to outweigh the pro of _getting to fuck Mike Chilton_ , and he's irritably aware of it. The kid is sexy as hell. He sighs, nods again. “Fine.”

Mike grins, sharp white teeth and bright eyes, bouncing a little on his toes, eager as a puppy. “Awesome.”

*

Rayon has his back turned locking the door to the best suite, so he doesn't see what happens. He hears a startled yelp from the Duke and whirls to find Mike holding both the Duke’s arms twisted behind his back, growling softly.

“Yeah, I guess I should explain how this is going to go,” Mike says to the Duke, and his eyes have gone that feral green-yellow that makes plain humans get a mite edgy. “You don't get to touch me unless I say so.” Rayon relaxes slightly, because this isn't just unreasonable aggression from the heat, this is obviously a reaction to the Duke predictably getting handsy. That's fine, the guy's got it coming. “Until then, you keep your hands off. If you want something you can ask, and I'll warn you before I do anything so you can say no if you want, but if I say no and you don't listen--”

“I'll kick him out myself,” Rayon cuts in. “That ain't cool.”

Mike throws Rayon a glance and nods. “Okay. Or I could just throw him out the window.”

“Oh, I don't think that will be necessary,” says the Duke hastily.

This suite is on the top floor, and the threat didn't sound like a joke. Rayon’s eyebrows are all the way up. “That kinda thing isn't really your style, is it, Mike?”

Mike's lips tighten. “Yeah, well, I'm not really feeling normal right now, so.” He lets go of the Duke’s arms, plants a hand against his back and shoves, and the Duke’s ridiculously long legs carry him several strides away before he spins around in a huff.

“I'll beg you to remember that _you_ were the one who invited me into this little encounter!” he snaps, waving an exasperated hand at Mike. “If you weren't _actually_ interested, why did you say I could make it worth your while?”

“I am, and you can, but on _my_ terms,” Mike says, shucking his jacket and throwing it over a chair. “You can suck me off, you can ride me, and you can try to make me feel good, but if you try to push me around it's not gonna go well for you. I don't trust you like that.”

Rayon slides his hands into his pockets, glad that long practice keeps his face cool and mildly amused through practically any provocation, including apparent innocent Mike Chilton casually listing off possible sex acts. Unlike the Duke, who looks poleaxed before quickly covering it up with a pout. “That go for me too?” Rayon says.

Mike looks at him and half smiles, eyes shading back to steady gold. “You've only betrayed me once, and had my back a lot more often. Not saying I trust you all the way, but more than him. So, no.” He pulls off his shirt, tosses it over his jacket, and Rayon tilts down his shades to see unimpeded, because _damn_ that's a nice half-naked body there, broad-shouldered, trim-waisted and only a few pale scars across fine olive skin. “You can try what you want,” Mike goes on, undoing his belt, “I'll stop you if you go too far. You don't really seem like the pushy type, though.”

“I do run a gang,” Rayon points out. “Kinda used to givin’ orders and bein’ obeyed.”

Mike's hands hitch in the middle of dropping his belt on the seat. “That's… not really the same thing.”

Always alert to potential weaknesses, the Duke steps in. “Mr. Chilton,” he purrs, “do you _like_ taking orders?”

Mike flashes him a dark look. “Not from you.” (Rayon somehow maintains his composure while absorbing that.)

The Duke flings himself backwards onto the vast expanse of bed, sulking. “This favoritism and discrimination is absolutely _shocking!_ It puts a nasty dent in my view of you as a pure and good-hearted soul.”

“Good,” Mike says. “Maybe that means you'll stop mistaking me for a chump.” He starts pulling his boots off as Rayon suppresses a snicker. Mike glances up, flicks a look from him to the Duke. “There a reason you guys are still dressed?”

“So little patience,” the Duke says, folding his hands behind his head. “You know, desperation isn't attractive.”

“Speak for yourself,” Rayon murmurs, and drapes his coat carefully over another chair. “Besides, if he weren't desperate, you think he'd be here?”

Mike's lips go tight again, but he shrugs a shoulder in acknowledgement.

Pulling off his tie, Rayon aims a quiet smirk at the Duke. “For that matter, I'd think you'd be happy. If he's desperate, he's less likely to be put off, right? So it's safe to take off your shirt.”

That bites deep, like he knew it would, and the Duke goes still, all his flamboyance frozen in a rush of real anger. Cheeks flushing, he peels himself off the bed and stalks over to Rayon, ripping at his clothes as he goes. “You are crossing a _line_ ,” he says through his teeth, using the few inches he has on Rayon to try to loom.

Rayon’s pretty damn used to him and his theatrics by now and calmly finishes unbuttoning his shirt. “My apologies,” he says smoothly, lips still curved. “I forgot--line-crossin’ is more your territory, isn't it.”

“Wow,” Mike says off to the side, “did I interrupt something here?”

“Nothin’ that won't keep,” Rayon says without looking away from the Duke.

“Absolutely,” the Duke says through a sharp, angry grin. “I can teach you manners any day.”

“I seem to remember the last time you said that--” Rayon starts musingly, and the Duke cuts him off by kissing him hard and mean. Rayon can't let that go unanswered, so he gets a handful of the Duke’s hair and pulls to make him moan, the Duke retaliates by grabbing his ass, and Rayon gets just a little distracted before Mike speaks up.

“Okay, guys, feelin’ kinda lonely over here. Are we gonna do this, or what?”

The Duke breaks away and turns to look, Rayon sees past him, and they both sort of. Pause. For a minute.

Mike is naked, sprawled on the bed, breathing deeply, hard and flushed and stroking himself. Rayon glances at the Duke, who looks sideways back at him, and they don't have to speak to agree; they'll pick up their fight later, right now they've got better things to do. (Like Mike, the Duke would say. Rayon has more class.)

“My apologies,” Rayon says again, more sincerely to Mike. “Be right there.” He strips, drapes his clothes neatly on the chair with his shades on top, and sits down on the bed as the Duke drops his clothes and jewelry, leans his cane up against a wall, and reluctantly takes off his shirt.

Rayon’s seen it before, so he watches Mike's face instead. Mike looks Rayon over first, yellow eyes half-lidded and appreciative, and then he glances at the Duke and blinks. His eyes widen slightly, but all he says is, “Huh.” No sign of either fascination or disgust, and Rayon is not so much impressed as pleased to have his confidence in Mike borne out again. 

Jaw clenched, the Duke doesn't look at either of them as he stalks over and flops down on his back on the other side of the bed, scars defiantly on full display. They're extensive, from his shoulders down to his lower ribs, nasty puckered shiny things with very straight edges, dark mottled pink against the paler pink of his skin. Burns, from the look of them, and from the pattern they're in, purposely inflicted. They date back to wherever he lived before Motorcity, though he's uncharacteristically tight-lipped on the subject. All he said when Rayon asked, several months into--whatever someone would call this not-relationship--was “The lady took an intense dislike to my taste in music” which doesn't actually clarify much.

Mike glances at the scars and up to the Duke’s face, considers him, and looks back to Rayon. “So let's do this,” he says.

Rayon smiles and leans in to brush a hand down Mike's chest. Out of the corner of his eye he sees some of the tension leaving the Duke’s body. “You wanna fuck or get fucked?” Rayon asks, and Mike winces a little, the flush on his cheeks darkening. That's right, the kid’s got a thing about swearing.

“Either,” he says, shrugging jerkily. “You can have me, I can take him, whatever, but can we do it already?” He's completely hard, chest heaving gently with his breath, and his gaze is focused on Rayon like a laser.

“No time for foreplay, huh?” Rayon says in amusement, leaning over to get the complimentary lube and condoms out of the bedside table. The staff will replace them when they clean the room after this.

Mike barks a laugh. “Foreplay. I think that was those three hours I spent earlier today trying to get this to go away. Sorry, you guys missed it.”

“Why does _he_ get to fuck you and I don't?” the Duke says. Whines, really, he's such a melodramatic jackass.

Mike shoots him a narrow look. “Remember when you went behind everyone's backs and turned me over to Kane and almost got Motorcity destroyed?”

“And then was instrumental in rescuing you, incidentally saving your life!”

“While driving _my_ car,” Mike says through his teeth.

Rayon laughs quietly, finishes rolling on a condom and flicks open the lube. “Give it up, Duke. You're lucky he even let you in on this. Want me to get you ready?” he asks Mike.

“ _Yes_ ,” Mike says, and flips onto elbows and knees. _Damn_ but he's eager, and couldn't care less about hiding it. Not Rayon’s style, but he has to admit it's hot as hell. He puts an appreciative hand on Mike's ass, (not quite round enough for his taste but pretty damn nice), and slicks up a finger, slides it in. Mike makes a soft noise and tilts his hips back, begging for more (god _damn_ ). “Nh--won't need much,” he adds, and he's right. Rayon has to wonder what he was doing for those three hours, because he opens up smooth and easy, like he's already taken it today.

The Duke has scrambled up to watch from a better vantage point, lounging against the pillows at the head of the bed. “Given the unreasonable grudge being held against me,” he sniffs, “I'm forced to question why I'm here at all.”

“You were there,” Mike says, “-- _nnh_ \--you were interested, and I don't know if-- _hhh,_ c’mon, man--one person will be enough.”

“Why Rayon,” the Duke says with theatrical shock, “I believe Mr. Chilton is questioning your stamina!”

Rayon slides in a second and third finger at the same time and Mike arches his back and groans in relief. Heat does do a number on a wer’s body, but the way he's not even trying to keep up appearances--that's gotta be all him. The kid is something else. “I don't think so,” Rayon says calmly. “I ain't wer. No shame not to keep up with one.”

“ _Hmph_ ,” says the Duke. His fingers tap restlessly on the bedspread as he watches Mike gasp and twist, rocking back against Rayon’s hand. “So when do I get a turn?” he says more lightly, smiling. Trying charm this time, and good luck with that.

Mike glances over at him, panting. “Maybe I'll--s-suck you off while-- _mmh_ \--Rayon’s in me,” he says. Rayon absolutely can't help looking over to meet the Duke’s eyes as he tilts down his stupid red shades to stare, and they share a silent moment of _what the fuck even is Mike Chilton_ before the Duke licks his lips.

“Tempting as that offer is,” he drawls, “I would fear for the safety of my anatomy. You are looking a bit _toothier_ than usual.” Hah. Wouldn't stop Rayon, but some people are naturally _cautious._

Because Mike's looking at the Duke, Rayon catches a side glimpse of his startled look, his mouth opening, tongue going up to check his teeth like he hadn't even noticed how pointy they've gotten. “Oh,” he says, and his shoulders tighten, his jaw sets. Rayon watches, fingers still moving in him so Mike twitches, breath hitching. Slowly the one eye Rayon can see goes from yellow to deep gold to a golden amber, and stops there. It's a more human color, but nowhere close to Mike's usual dark brown. “Oh-- _nnh_ \--okay, how's that?” he says, showing the Duke his teeth, which are considerably less sharp now and rather smaller.

“Hmm,” the Duke says, making a dubious face, and Mike snorts at him.

“Fine, I guess you'll-- _hahh_ \--have to wait, then. Rayon, _nnngh_ , c’mon, let's _go!_ ”

“Oh all right!” the Duke says hastily. “I suppose I'll risk it.”

Rayon doesn't roll his eyes, but the Duke shoots him a look anyway.

“Okay,” Mike pants, “just let me-- _ah!_ Dude!” he says to Rayon, who slides his fingertips one last time over Mike's prostate, making his hips jerk as he gasps. Rayon smirks a little, stops and pulls away. Mike practically dives up the bed to kneel between the Duke’s legs, puts his head down and--oh.

Rayon blinks as the Duke’s head thumps back against the headboard with a muttered curse. Can't really blame the guy, Rayon wouldn't have expected Mike Chilton could deep-throat like that either.

He slicks up and takes a minute to clean his fingers off, then moves up behind Mike, runs a hand up his side and over his back. Mike makes a muffled, pleased hum and the Duke grunts.

“You should take the damn shades off, you look like an idiot,” Rayon murmurs, and the Duke does that eyeroll where his whole head moves. Then he tosses the shades over on the side of the bed. (The sweatband, of course, stays. Rayon lets it be because it's less distracting than the shades, although the Duke still looks like an idiot.)

“You're just jealous of my _smokin’_ style,” the Duke says, rasping more than usual, “but I can be the bigger man.”

“Real generous of you,” Rayon says, as mildly as if he meant it, and pushes into Mike slow.

“ _Mmnh!_ ” Mike says around the Duke, and his hips shove back so Rayon hisses and grabs him, stops that. “Mm- _mmh_ ,” Mike complains.

Rayon shakes his head even though Mike can't see it. “You need to cool your jets, man. I know you want it and I'll give it to you how I like. Stop pushin’.”

Mike's shoulders shift, hunching slightly, and then he moans as Rayon moves again, in and in, as carefully as with a virgin. It's possible he's messing with Mike on purpose, just a little. It's more than possible Rayon’s an asshole. Once he's in it's too good to stay slow, though. He pulls back, holds Mike's hips hard, and shoves in fast. Mike lets out a muffled cry, spreads his legs more and bucks up into it. Hell _yes_.

Rayon is aware of his lips pulling into a smirk, but mostly he's focused on pounding Mike like the kid so blatantly wants. Mike takes everything he gives, grateful and half-wild, arching and moaning and pushing back fast and hard against him, head lowered over the Duke’s lap. From the dazed look on the Duke’s face, Mike's putting an equal amount of fierce effort into the blowjob, even though he's got to be pretty distracted.

“That's it, baby,” Rayon murmurs, stroking Mike's back, rocking into him. “Make him come first. I bet you can, he loves shit like this. Watching someone else get fucked is almost as good as doing it himself.”

“Don't bother to sound, _mmmh yeah_ , superior,” the Duke sneers, gasping. “People think _I'm_ the vain one-- _aah_ \--but you _love_ showing of _ffff--unhh._ _Ahh!_ ” Mouth dropping open, he folds over Mike, clutching his shoulders, jerking and twitching as his hips thrust. What Rayon can see of his face looks absolutely shocked, like that one came right out of the blue. It takes a minute before he falls back, long limbs going slack as he slumps against pillows and headboard.

“Damn,” Rayon says, breathing harder. “All right, man--I'm impressed,” he tells Mike. “I knew you could, but-- _hahh_ \--didn't know you could do it _that_ quick.”

Mike groans and pulls away from the Duke, back and shoulders flushed and heaving for air. “Please,” he gasps, and his voice is hoarse from the pounding his throat just took. “Please, I-- _nnh_ \--need to--”

Rayon is tempted to make a crack about kids and their lack of stamina, but it'd be a shitty thing to say to someone in heat. Instead he lowers his voice, gentles it. “Go on. You want me to help you out?”

“Yeah _please_ , I-- _hhn_ \--I--” He hesitates, stammers like he's confused. “I don't-- _ahahh, ah!_ Don't know what--why I'm not--”

Ah, hell. Rayon was getting ready to grab Mike’s dick, but his hips hitch as a thought occurs to him. “You ever slept with another wer?”

“ _Hnnh_ \--no?”

Fuck. If he's not coming and he thinks he should be even without an assist, it's probably a wer thing, and the only way he'd find out about this particular wer thing would be by fucking--or getting fucked by--another wer. Mike doesn't know what he needs, and Rayon might, but the kid's probably not gonna like it.

“All right,” Rayon says. “Let's try this.” Hips still working, he bends over Mike, chest against his back, and reaches up to close his teeth firmly on the back of Mike’s neck, biting down hard enough to hold him still. In response Mike goes rigid, a shocked noise breaking free before he yelps and comes in convulsive shudders.

“I knew I should’ve had a camera installed in my cane,” the Duke mutters, and Rayon shoots him a dark look as best he can without moving.

Rayon holds on until the kid stops shaking, then lets go and straightens, hoping Mike will understand and the apparent dominance display of biting him isn't going to damage Rayon’s alliance with the Burners. With an effort he manages to stop thrusting, summoning the will to pull out.

Mike’s hand snaps back to catch his hip before he can. “Nnh. No, don't. Don' stop.”

Rayon stares at the back of his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. Keep, keep goin’. Please.”

Rayon has to bite his lip because _damn_ Mike knows how to ask nice. Then he keeps going.

He takes his time getting there, because Rayon is proud of his stamina and also prefers it long and luxurious. What's the point of having sex if it's over too fast to remember?

It's more than enough time for the heat to do its thing. By the time Rayon’s riding the edge of losing control, Mike is panting encouragement at him, writhing and moaning eagerly again.

“-- _god_ yeah, like th-- _ahh_ \--that, keep going--”

Rayon groans and slows down even though it's the last thing he wants to do. “Gettin’ close,” he says, fingers digging into Mike's hips like it'll help him control himself. “Gonna have to slow a while--if you want me to last much longer.”

“No no no don't slow down,” Mike gasps, words tumbling over each other. Then he actually hears what Rayon was saying. “Oh. No, go-- _nnh,_ oh--go ahead, finish. Just. Yeah.”

Rayon snorts and doesn't speed up yet. “You sure about that, man? Doesn't sound like you want me to quit.”

“Oh for crying out loud,” the Duke grumbles. Yeah, Rayon’s self-control always pisses him off. 

Mike groans in frustration, hand going back to Rayon’s hip to try to pull him faster. “‘Course I don't, I want-- _mmh_ \--more, but. ‘s not fair, you-- _ahh_ \--you wanna come too.”

True enough. Rayon goes back to his previous quick pace. When he finishes, it takes a few minutes to recover and deal with the condom while Mike breathes hard and strokes himself. His hand is rough, moving quick, and when Rayon leans around to see his face it's no surprise he's drawn and frustrated. Heat is fucking _mean_ , and it doesn't take kindly to any wer trying to weather it with just their own hands.

Rayon puts a hand over Mike's, ignoring the whine and the way his hips buck. “You want somethin’ in you again?”

“ _Ah!_ G-god yes, _nnh_ , please!”

“You've had yours,” the Duke breaks in, “give someone else a turn!”

“Not you,” Mike pants, and Rayon cuts a brief glance at the Duke, who can't seem to decide whether to pout or glower.

Rayon doesn't smirk. He slides two fingers back into Mike and this time he doesn't go slow or easy, doesn't have to pace himself or tease Mike. He sits up behind him and pumps into him rapid-fire as Mike quivers and cries out, begs and goes incoherent and moans all shaky like he's dying. Finally he goes stiff and trembling, gasps once and comes, clenching around Rayon’s fingers in a way that makes his dick jealous.

Mike slumps, after, moves on unsteady limbs to flop on his side a little distance from Rayon and the Duke both. Rayon heads into the en suite bathroom to clean up and brings back a damp washcloth for Mike, who gives it a dazed look before taking it. Lying back on his elbows, Rayon makes a bet with himself how long they have until Mike needs it again.

The Duke breaks the silence. “I should have guessed biting would be key for a wer,” he says. “Still, you seem to know an alarming amount about the sexual needs and habits of our furrier brethren, Rayon.”

“Guess so,” Rayon says, inspecting the ceiling, “if it _alarms_ you to be less than totally ignorant.”

The Duke bristles in his peripheral vision, but before he can retort Mike cuts in. “Why, though? The biting, I mean, not why you know. I never thought--I mean, sometimes a little pain is fun, getting bit or scratched, hickies and stuff, but it never felt like that before.”

“Your body wants you to be with another wer right now, or more than one,” Rayon says, looking over at him. “That's what a wer would do, fuckin’ you. Bite the back of your neck like that, stake a claim. Part of you was waitin’ for it, so I helped out. Doesn't mean anything comin’ from me.”

Sometime in the past half hour Mike’s eyes slid back to bright yellow, the inhuman color unnerving as they narrow at Rayon. “What does that mean, stake a claim?”

Rayon shrugs one shoulder. “Belonging, pretty much. Belonging to, belonging with, that kinda thing.”

“Huh.” Mike's lips quirk up at one corner, but he doesn't look amused. He sits up. “That explains why _part_ of me kind of wants to kiss you, and another part wants to punch you in the face. Don't do that again.”

“Oh my,” the Duke drawls, “who's giving orders _now?_ ” They both ignore him.

Rayon lifts his eyebrows at Mike. “You needed it. Want me not to if you need it again?”

Mike glares at him, a low growl starting in his chest, sharp white teeth flashing. The growl gets louder when he drops his gaze to the bed, runs both hands through his hair in frustration. Finally he stutters quiet again and huffs. “I can't even say that won't happen because I don't _know._ Aaagh, this _sucks._ ”

Rayon nods equably. “So I hear.”

Mike frowns at the bed, looks up. “I'll ask you, if I need that again. I know what it feels like now.”

Rayon shrugs. “Fair enough.”

Mike licks his lips. “Uh, speaking of which…” Rayon glances down the kid’s body and nods to himself. Yeah, he wins the bet, it was just as quick as he expected.

“Gonna need another ten minutes if you want the same again,” he says.

Mike chews thoughtfully on his lip, looks over at the Duke.

“Heavens, what are you looking this way for?” the Duke says, acidly enough that Rayon stifles a smirk. “I had resigned myself to my sudden, mysterious invisibility. And inaudibility. Surely you're not acknowledging my existence again!”

Mike eyes him and shakes his head slowly. “Wow, dude. I thought _Texas_ got sulky. Look, do you want to have sex or not?”

The Duke purses his lips and pretends to be dubious for a futile few minutes before giving in to Mike's steady, unmoved gaze. “Possibly,” he huffs finally. “I can certainly give you a better time than _he_ can.”

Yeeeah, no he can't.

“I'm not really gonna have the chance to compare,” Mike points out, “since you don't get to take me.”

“What?!” The Duke looks as outraged as if Mike hadn't already said that before. He sits bolt upright glaring at Mike, then drops the angry facade for a flirtatious half-lidded look. “I think you should reconsider,” he says, crawling over to Mike in a long-limbed slink that should absolutely not be sexy. (It is. Damn, the guy pisses Rayon off.)

“No,” Mike says flatly.

“You're passing up a chance at inexpressible pleasures out of mere spite!” the Duke says with a pained frown.

“Inexpressible. Right,” Rayon murmurs.

Mike's expression is focused now, bright eyes narrow and not at all friendly on the Duke. “Wait. Are _you_ accusing _me_ of doing something out of spite? Does that seem a little weird to you? Hypocritical, maybe?”

“All I'm saying,” the Duke purrs, ignoring this point, “is that you should try to get past your prejudices.” Despite Mike's wholly unreceptive expression, he puts a hand on Mike's face and rubs a thumb over his reddened lower lip. “I could make this a day you remember with _awe_.”

Mike's eyes shade yellow-green in a heartbeat and abruptly the Duke is on his back on the bed with Mike on top of him, one hand around his throat and sharp teeth bared in his face, a low, steady growl rattling in Mike's chest. Rayon is up on his knees, rethinking his assumptions about Mike not being heat-aggressive, because yeah the Duke is a pushy asshole, but Mike usually handles it with a lot better grace than this.

“Mike!” Rayon says sharply. “Chill, man. This ain't the way you do things.”

The growl continues. The Duke shoves at Mike's chest with the hand that's not pinned down and the growl spikes into a nasty snarl, dying back down only slowly.

“Don't antagonize him, moron,” Rayon snaps.

The Duke makes a choking sound in response. His face is going red, Mike's cutting off his air. Shit.

Grabbing an angry wer is a good way to break an arm, best left for a last resort. Rayon’s not that desperate yet. “Mike, look at what the hell you're doin’!” He isn't responding to reason, so Rayon goes for his emotions instead. “You want the Burners to see you like this, totally out of control? You want that blond friend of yours to be _scared_ of you?”

The growl hitches and stutters out. Mike is frozen over the Duke, eyes still narrow and greenish, teeth still bared in a silent snarl. Then he flings himself off and away to the edge of the bed, breathing hard.

Rayon glances at the Duke, who seems disinclined to move yet, eyes wide on the ceiling as he heaves in air. Looks like he's breathing okay; he'll be fine. Rayon gets up, grabs the glass off the bedside table and goes to fill it from the tap in the bathroom.

He takes a drink, refills it, brings it back and holds it out to Mike, who starts when he looks up after a minute.

“Oh. Th-thanks.”

“Drink it,” Rayon says, when he just stares into the glass. His eyes are yellow again and too wide, shaken. Obviously he didn't realize what a bad idea it is when you're in heat to spend time around someone you not only mistrust but actively dislike.

“And what about _me?_ ” the Duke says. “I'm the one who was just attacked and mercilessly throttled! I could use a drink! Of something stronger than water, for that matter,” he adds.

“There's another glass,” Rayon says, nodding to the table on the other side of the bed. “Get yourself a drink. You pay for anything you get from the minibar.”

The Duke mutters a few choice words and continues to lie right where Mike put him.

Mike finishes the water in a few long swallows and turns around, face set. “I'm sorry,” he says to the Duke. “I shouldn't have done that. You were being a jerk, but that's no excuse.”

“Heat can be like that,” Rayon says, dropping onto the bed.

“Don't make excuses for him, Rayon, he _should_ be sorry!” the Duke declares, finally sitting up. “In fact…” He narrows his eyes, gives Mike a calculating look. “I would say you _owe_ me now.”

“What did I say about antagonizing him?” Rayon says, shaking his head, but he's talking to himself because the Duke sure isn't listening.

Mike's lips tighten, but he must be feeling guilty, because he doesn't dispute the Duke’s claim straight off. “What do you want?”

The Duke’s thin lips curve in a sharp smile. “I want to fuck you.”

Mike's mouth twists and he glares from the Duke to Rayon and back. “‘ _Take’_ me. ‘Top’ me, even, come on, guys, this isn't hard.” He's been distracted even from the matter at hand, which Rayon is well aware he's not keen on, by his thing against swearing. Sometimes the kid is really damn funny.

“I've heard your blond friend goin’ off on a blue streak a time or two,” Rayon observes. “Seems like he disagrees, and he's got a mouth on him.”

“He tries!” Mike says defensively. “He reverts under stress.”

Rayon allows his raised brows to speak for him.

Mike glares and pointedly turns back to the Duke. “I already said I'm not letting you do that. Pick something else.”

“Not so fast,” the Duke says, leaning forward. “You're in heat. You _need_ it. And from what we've seen so far, I'd say your instincts are dead-on, baby; one man alone is not gonna cut it. So you need _me._ And I've told you what I want.” He sprawls onto his belly with his knees bent, kicking his feet idly in the air, head tilted with his cheek propped on one fist. “So, either we both get what we want or nobody does. That's the deal.”

Mike shrugs. “I guess you might as well leave, then, if you're actually going to pass up on sex because it's not exactly the way you want.” He gives the Duke a look. “Seriously, I'm not the unreasonable one here. I already sucked you off. All you've done is make demands and be annoying.”

“Gotta exercise his few talents,” Rayon says lazily.

The Duke sniffs haughtily at both of them and retreats to his pillows at the head of the bed. “You'll change your mind,” he tells Mike. “And thanks to my ever-gracious nature, I will be here to grant your request.”

“Okay, dude,” Mike says dubiously. “We'll see how that works out for you.”

“I'm good, if you're ready,” Rayon says to Mike, grinning. “Let's go.”

*

Rayon makes it another hour before he just-- _can't_ , anymore. Kinda humiliating, even though he knows it shouldn't be; normal humans just can't keep up with a wer, _especially_ one in heat. And fingers are an okay substitute for a dick between rounds, but not enough for Mike on their own. Lying on his back with Mike slumped beside him, he tries to will himself to get up, walk to the bathroom to clean up one last time. In a minute. He'll get up in a minute.

A damp washcloth lands on his chest and his eyes open in surprise. The Duke purses his lips and stalks back to his pillow nest, saying dismissively, “I suppose you put on a passable show.”

That's… unusual. Rayon uses the washcloth, folds the dirty side in, and hands it to Mike. The Duke must have really enjoyed voyeuring it up to actually go out of his way to be helpful. Not to mention what's a straight-up compliment by his standards.

Mike finishes with the washcloth, balls it up and throws it across the room into the bathroom, apparently without effort or attention. Hanging around wer is terrible for an ordinary human’s ego. Unless said human is the Duke, whose ego is roughly the size of Deluxe anyway. 

Mike's breathing is speeding up again. He makes a low noise Rayon can't interpret and turns to the Duke. “Okay, look, you want us to both get what we want? How about this: I take you, and when we're done, if I still need more, you can take me.”

“Reverse that and you've got a deal,” the Duke says instantly.

Mike growls softly, stops himself, and draws a deep breath. “Fine,” he says, voice tight. “Let's do this.” He grabs a condom off the bedside table, tosses it to the Duke.

Rayon decides now is a good time to take a shower.

When he gets out, Mike has the Duke flat on his back and is straddling his hips, riding him with his eyes closed. The Duke looks like perhaps this hasn't gone exactly as planned, but he's making the best of it. He's got a hand wrapped around Mike, stroking in time with their movement, and the other hand on Mike's hip. Mike is a lot quieter than he's been up until now, his groans mostly breath.

Rayon had planned to get dressed, since he's not gonna be up for more sex, (for possibly a week or so, holy fuck), but instead he finds himself wandering over to perch on the Duke’s thighs behind Mike. He puts his hands on Mike's shoulders and strokes down his back, and maybe it's his imagination but some of the tension seems to leave the muscles there. Rayon leans down to suck a mark onto the back of Mike's shoulder, runs his hands up and around Mike's sides to rub his nipples. That gets a moan, and the Duke glares at Rayon over Mike's shoulder.

“I thought you'd had enough,” the Duke says pointedly. “Shouldn't you be resting? Or perhaps returning to the very important business of running your gang?”

“What's wrong, afraid you can't hold his attention if I'm here?” Rayon says against Mike's skin, mouthing at the base of his neck where it joins his shoulder.

The Duke sneers and his thighs tense under Rayon as his hips jerk up into Mike, who catches his breath and shudders, head low.

“Guys,” he says, breathless, “can't you wait to--s-start fightin’ again until-- _ahh_ \--I'm not right between you?”

“Oh,” the Duke purrs, “but it's so much fun this way!”

“You were _just_ \-- _nnh_ \--complaining you wanted him to--leave,” Mike points out.

“You should know better by now than to take half of what comes out of his mouth seriously,” Rayon says.

His hands play across Mike's body, alternately soothing and rousing over hipbones and inner thighs, nipples and neck. Mike shivers, moving erratically now. Rayon is kinda tempted to ignore what the kid said about only biting again if he asked for it, because _damn_ the way he instantly came was amazing, but Mike's already in a nasty, vulnerable place. It'd be a dick move to take further advantage of him, and Rayon may not be a nice person, but he's not _that_ much of an asshole.

Mike doesn't need the help anyway, it turns out, because a minute later all his muscles tense and quiver as he comes. The Duke makes a smug noise and rocks his hips slowly as Mike gradually shivers still again.

“Get off,” the Duke growls, jerking his legs pointedly as Rayon sits on them. Mike twitches, confused, and makes to move, but the Duke holds him in place.

Rayon raises an eyebrow at the Duke, considers, and eventually shifts aside on the bed. He's unsurprised when the Duke takes advantage of this to sit up, grab Mike, and roll him over on his back without pulling out. Then he starts pushing in hard and fast, holding Mike's legs bent up against his chest.

Mike's mouth is open, gasping for breath, his eyes are shut, and from the way his body is twitching and the look on his face Rayon can't tell if he's okay with this or not. When it was his turn, Rayon was careful about fucking him after he'd already come, moving smooth and easy instead of pounding him like this, and Mike's already had plenty of being pounded today anyway.

Rayon leans in on one elbow, brushes a hand over Mike's shoulder. “Hey. This still okay? You need him to quit?” he murmurs in Mike's ear, low enough the Duke shouldn't catch it.

Mike's eyes flicker open and he looks at Rayon without comprehension, dazed and flinching slightly with the Duke’s vigor. Rayon is a second away from hauling the Duke off him and dealing with the resulting temper tantrum when Mike seems to come to, gaze sharpening. He winces once, glares up at the Duke, then looks back at Rayon for one intent moment. Taking a deep breath, he arches his neck and--relaxes all at once, beginning to move slightly with the Duke.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, “it's fine. I'm good.”

...The hell did the kid just do? Did he just… _force_ himself to be okay so as not to give the Duke the satisfaction? How does a person even do that?

“Of course he's good, he loves it!” the Duke pants. “Stop trying to interfere, Rayon. No do-gooder meddling required, just watch as I work my magic!”

His hips snap forward and Mike jerks, a low moan forcing its way out. Rayon watches Mike's expression, which is tight and complicated, and comes to a decision.

When the first slicked finger nudges up against the Duke’s ass and presses in, the Duke jolts in shock and gasps, turning to glare over his shoulder. “Rayon, you sly son of a-- _ah!_ \--malformed sexbot, what do you think you're doing?”

“Just doin’ you both a favor,” Rayon says, pushing it all the way in. “Gettin’ you ready for Mike. Just in case.”

“He's not going to need it after this,” the Duke says, and catches his breath, startled and annoyed, when Rayon rubs that fingertip over his prostate. His hips stutter in their steady rhythm. “You're--wasting your time.”

“That's all right, it's in a good cause.” He slides a second finger in, starts pumping them in and out, making no effort to match the Duke’s rhythm while aiming every stroke for the same spot.

It doesn't take long at all for the Duke to start swearing, hips jerking and shivering, rhythm utterly destroyed. Rayon keeps going, smirking outright when the Duke gets breathless and goes off on an obscene, barely coherent rant on Rayon’s ancestry. After a minute Rayon glances back at Mike, peering between the legs held against his chest to get a glimpse of his expression. Tight-lipped, he looks less than impressed (which, okay, is probably partly Rayon’s fault for knocking the Duke so hard off his stride. He's not as sorry as he should be because Mike deserves better, but the Duke doesn't). The gleam in his eyes is amused, though, and he’s still waiting more or less patiently for the Duke to finish.

Rayon can help with that. He slips in a third finger and the Duke loses words entirely, groaning as he thrusts wildly. Rayon speeds up, rubbing back and forth over his prostate fast and firm and the Duke lets out a choked snarl and comes. Fuck _yeah._

Breathing hard, the Duke pulls out after a minute and collapses on his back a little distance away. For a while he and Mike both lie still, sprawled separately on the bed. (Rayon takes the opportunity to clean the lube off his hands.)

Needless to say, Mike recovers first. He sits up and glances from the Duke to Rayon, who's started getting dressed, then at the wall, squinting thoughtfully. He catches Rayon’s eye with a look of badly suppressed hope. “I think it might be over. I don't feel that weird… drive anymore.”

Rayon nods. “Could be. Give it fifteen minutes to be sure.”

Mike sighs, shrugs. “Yeah, okay.” He crosses his legs and studies the coverlet under him, frowning slightly. “Does heat usually last this long?”

“What, the first flush?” Rayon thinks about what he's heard. “Can't be sure, but you might be on the longer end. Usually they talk like it comes an hour at a time. You've been here more than two hours. Hard to say, though--I ain't exactly an expert on heat, just know a couple of things.”

Mike blows his breath out, shoulders slumping. “That sucks,” he mutters, and looks up. “What does that mean, ‘the first flush’? And--wait, an hour at a time? Like, more than once?”

Fuck. This would've been a lot easier if Mike hadn't kept interrupting him when he was trying to explain in the first place. The Duke is paying attention now, leaning up on his elbows, eyes flicking between Rayon and Mike as an intrigued smile pulls at his lips. Rayon sighs and drops into a chair with his shirt half-buttoned over his slacks, rubs a knuckle over his lips. “Yeah, more than once, for sure. First flush, like the first round. Look, how long did you think heat lasted? What have you heard?”

“Nothing about that, just about how dangerous heat is for wer and everyone around them.” Mike looks uneasy and then his jaw tightens and his face goes hard. “I thought it must last until it got dealt with, or maybe a day, but that's not it, is it. All right, tell me.”

There's no way to say it gently. “A full week in some cases, but usually three to five days.”

Yellow eyes go round and blank with shock. Rayon doesn't like the horrified look, doesn't like being the one to cause it. He does his best to change it. “Far as I understand, the first flush is the most intense. You need it longer and more often. After that it usually slows down, you get off a time or two and you're good til the next round. So the rest won't be this bad.”

“Feel _free_ to come see me tomorrow,” the Duke puts in. “I've always got time to perform acts of sweet charity.”

“Not happening,” Mike says without expression. “How many rounds a day.”

“You did hear me say I'm not an expert, yeah?” Rayon shakes his head. “I don't know, man, two? I'm guessin’, here.”

“Yes, and how _did_ you come to know so much about this very _particular_ aspect of wer life?” the Duke says, as sly as though he senses something scandalous.

He's going to be badly disappointed. Rayon rolls his eyes. “I have wer friends and some of them overshare. Turns out hittin’ heat is some people's favorite time of year and they think we ought to be jealous.”

“Hmm.” Yeah, the Duke definitely thought that story was going to be more exciting. He's not _quite_ pouting.

Mike rubs his hands over his face, leaves them there. “Okay,” he says quietly, muffled. “Okay.” Dropping his hands, he nods at Rayon. “Thanks for telling me.”

Rayon tips his head to the side like a shrug. “No problem, man.” He considers asking about Mike's plans for the next few days, giving a word or two of advice like heat not being the kind of thing you can hide from anyone who knows you, definitely not if they live with you. Then he looks at Mike's face and decides against it. Kid doesn't look in the mood to deal with well-meaning questions or hints. He'll figure it out on his own.

Mike gets up, walks over to the chair his clothes are on, suddenly stops. “No,” he says flatly. “ _No. Dang_ it. It's not gone yet.” He groans and turns to Rayon. “What happens if I just ignore it and go home?”

Rayon lifts an eyebrow. “Can't say I know for sure, but best guess is you won't be comfortable. It drove you here in the first place, right? Seems like it's not ignorable or you wouldn't have had to do that.”

Mike drops his face in his hands again and just stands there for a long, long minute. Rayon flicks a glance at the Duke, who's watching Mike, for once not smiling. When Mike looks up again his narrowed eyes burn and his jaw is clenched. He whirls and stalks toward the bed like a predator.

The Duke raises an eyebrow, pretending he's not at all alarmed. “I knew you'd be back for more,” he drawls, which Rayon could've told him would be a bad idea.

Mike snarls softly and hairs prickle upright on the back of Rayon’s neck. That one quiet sound is nearly as unnerving as all the growling before. Mike doesn't pounce, though, just climbs onto the bed and crouches there, coiled. “How do you want it?” he says, sounding almost normal for all the danger signals he's giving off. “On your back? All fours? Riding me?”

The Duke looks mulish because he's crazy and has no fucking common sense. “Who says I'm going to--”

Mike cuts him off by snarling again, louder, and twitches like he's tempted to spring. “You agreed. Please don't push me right now,” he says very carefully, every word distinct. “You're a real jerk and I don't like you, but I don't like hurting people and I don't want to do something I'll regret.”

Eyes a little wide, the Duke licks his lips.

“And it's starting to seem likely,” Mike continues, his voice picking up a faint growl underneath, “because my self-control is really bad right now, and you're such a jerk, and you love making people uncomfortable, and maybe it's about time for someone to return the favor.” By the end of the sentence, the growl is a lot less faint, a jagged rumble under the words.

The Duke is doing a terrible job of hiding how unsettled he is, so of course he tries harder. Smiling broadly, eyes wide, he opens his mouth to say something that will make the situation that much worse and Mike growls again, tense and quivering to go for him. (Rayon can't even tell if he’s about to knock the Duke around or fuck him, not that it matters because either way the Duke would be messed up bad, that's no kind of fair fight.)

Rayon is on his feet. “ _Mike_ ,” he says, sharp and hard like he's talking to one of his men. “You're way outta line. Pull it together, _now_.”

He doesn't expect it to work. He definitely doesn't expect Mike to go still, shudder all over, and sit back on his heels, breathing hard, eyes closed and teeth bared with effort. After a minute, Rayon realizes those teeth are getting shorter, blunter, not a lot but enough.

It takes a second to register what just went down, and then Rayon blows out a silent breath, impressed with the kid all over again. Even in the middle of losing it, he's still got the discipline to follow orders. (To follow _Rayon’s_ orders, even, like Mike's decided he can trust Rayon to call him to heel if he needs it. Damn if that's not weirdly touching.) “That's it,” he says quietly. “Rein it in. I know he's a dick, but you're not really mad at _him_ , are you.”

It's not really a question, but Mike slowly shakes his head anyway.

“Yeah. You're doin’ fine, just keep an eye on that, yeah?”

Mike nods, shoulders hunching slightly, and breathes deep and careful until the last of the tension leaves his body and he slumps.

“Good,” Rayon tells him, because after that the kid’s earned a kind word. He steps up next to the bed, hands in his pockets, and looks him over, looks the Duke over. Mike is staring at the coverlet, tight-lipped, looking tired and _done_ except for the erection he's ignoring. The Duke is lying back on one elbow, doing his best to look bored to hide the fact that he's still freaked out and pissy on top of it because Rayon had to save his ass.

“So,” Rayon says casually, “the two of you did have a deal. You change your mind on that, Duke?” If the man wants to leave, (which he has the right to do, even if Rayon plans to give him a hard time about it), Rayon’s got the choice of getting undressed again and filling in, or calling in someone else. He's pretty sure his Number Three would be interested, if it comes to that.

The Duke snaps upright, glaring. “I _beg_ your pardon,” he says haughtily, “as a man of my word, I never go back on a deal. I'm merely unclear if Mr. Chilton is still interested.”

“Right,” Rayon says, nodding. “That's why when he asked how you wanted it you were gettin’ ready to play hard to get.”

“How do you want it,” Mike says without looking up. His voice is almost toneless.

The Duke’s face does an odd kind of twitch, looking at him, and Rayon can't tell if it's nerves or anger or what. “Lie down on your back,” the Duke says abruptly. “I'll ride you.”

Mike grabs a condom, puts it on, moves a little farther onto the bed and flops down on his back. He stares at the ceiling, and from the expression on his face he could be waiting patiently for some painful procedure to take place so he can be done with it. It's not exactly seductive, and Rayon doesn't blame the Duke for hesitating. He still doesn't call it off, though, just grabs the lube and slicks it over Mike before climbing on and sliding down slow. He arches his back and hums appreciatively, trying to perform as always, which doesn't work because Mike's eyes are closed tight.

(Rayon’s really not an expert on heat, but he knows it can be an ordeal. It can also be a hell of a lot of fun, and which it is depends on multiple factors including the person’s physiology, mindset, and preparedness. Mike's preparedness was nil, thanks to Deluxe misinformation, and his physiology seems to have it in for him, but up until now his mindset’s been great, focused on the moment and enjoying the sex, not worrying about anything beyond that. If he can't get that back, this is going to be miserable for everyone involved.)

Rayon gets on the bed, resigning himself to wrinkled slacks. He looks from Mike to the Duke, mentally shrugs, and puts a hand on either chest, stroking once before thumbing a nipple on each. Mike gasps softly and the Duke grunts. Rayon can't help the slight smirk.

Leaning down, he nips Mike just below the collarbone, sucks a mark into his skin. He grabs one nipple between his teeth, tugging gently, and Mike's fingers dig into the bedspread as he groans, hips rocking up. The Duke makes a startled noise and pushes himself up to sink down again, beginning to move at a pace he probably can't sustain for long.

Rayon rubs Mike's other nipple, pinches it gently, and says low in his ear, “You're doin’ good, man. You'll be okay. Just gotta keep your head in the right place and not let it get to you. You can do that.”

Mike opens his eyes and stares at him, and Rayon holds his gaze. “I dunno,” Mike says.

Rayon did not sign up to be a counselor or coach today, but who the fuck else is going to be here for the kid? Especially when the dumbass seems to have left his friends out of the loop. “I do,” Rayon says. “You got this.”

Mike stares some more and finally nods. “Okay,” he mutters, as if to himself. “Okay.” His eyes close, his body loosens, and when it draws taut again it's with a different energy. His eyes snap open and they're sharp and intent on the Duke, his mouth turns up at one corner.

(He did it again, took himself from ‘not-okay’ to ‘doing fine’ just with an effort of _will_. Rayon’s seen it twice now and he still doesn't get how the kid _does_ that.)

Mike grabs the Duke by the hips and starts helping him move, getting a startled look as he half-lifts him. Kid's got nice arms, yeah, but nothing like thick enough muscle to be able to do that if he was human instead of wer. Rayon smirks quietly and sits up, puts his hands back where they were, one on each chest. He's enjoying helping.

“ _Ah!_ ” the Duke says as Rayon plucks and twists his nipple almost too hard. “You know, _inspiring_ as I'm sure your presence is,” he says in a waspish tone, “you should really feel free to _leave_. We'll manage perfectly well without you.”

“What's wrong?” Rayon says. “Can't handle us both at once?” He leans in close to the Duke’s ear, says smooth and dark, “Afraid I'm gonna help Mike work you over?”

“Hah!” the Duke says, and bites off a groan as Mike's hips roll up into him. “Neither of you have-- _nngh_ \--anything to worry me.”

“Oh yeah?” Rayon says, as if mildly curious. His eyes are on his hands, since it takes a bit of concentration to be rough with one hand and have a lighter touch with the other. Mike seems to appreciate the attention, eyelashes fluttering every now and then when Rayon rubs or tugs just right. The Duke is trying to pretend he's unaffected, both by Rayon and by Mike sighing and arching up into his touch.

(Rayon likes this transparent pretense a lot better than the Duke’s other tactic, which is to play up each and every reaction like he's doing over-the-top porn. That drives Rayon fucking crazy it's so fake. It feels like every loud moan is mocking him. Half the time as soon as he starts that nonsense Rayon walks out--which might actually explain why the Duke doesn't try it as often these days.)

“Yeah,” the Duke sneers, answering the idle question a little late. His breath catches as Rayon pinches both his nipples hard and just--holds on. Mike can do without for a minute; putting the Duke properly in his place requires both hands.

“Well, that sounds kinda like a challenge,” Rayon says thoughtfully, watching the Duke’s mouth drop open as his face flushes red, chest heaving under Rayon’s persistent grip. “And I'm pretty sure my buddy Mike doesn't back down from those. What do you think?” he says to Mike. “You want to help me make him scream?”

“Uh,” Mike says, yellow eyes wide and startled. “In a good way, right?” Rayon blinks at him. Mike lifts the Duke and rolls his hips up as he comes back down, and the Duke makes a choked noise and then glares at Mike. “It's just, I can't tell--if you guys hate each other or not,” Mike explains to Rayon, still moving the Duke like a bony, long-limbed doll, “and it kinda seems like--you've done this before, and if you do hate each other--that's kinda weird?”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Rayon starts with a one-shouldered shrug.

“I disagree,” the Duke says through his teeth, and gasps as Rayon twists his fingers slightly. “At the moment-- _nngh_ , you insufferable _bastard_ \--I'm not sure it's strong _enough_.”

Rayon can't help the smirk. “There you go,” he tells Mike. “Hate it is.”

Mike looks from one to the other, frowning slightly. “Huh.”

“We're not gonna hurt him, though, if that's what you're worried about,” Rayon says. “That kind of coercion ain't my gig, even with a backstabbin’ loudmouth.”

“As though you haven't--done your share of backstabbing,” the Duke pants, and Rayon raises an eyebrow.

“Carefully judged,” he points out. “Never sold out my own city.” The Duke rolls his eyes and Rayon lets go the tight grip he's kept on the Duke’s nipples to rub them firmly instead, watching his eyes widen at the continuing ache that's got to be almost too much, balanced on the line between pain and pleasure. (Using clamps on him is fun, but Rayon doesn't really have leisure to bring toys into this right now.) “So,” he says to Mike as the Duke gasps for breath, “you satisfied?”

Mike watches the Duke while still steadily moving him up and down, glances at how hard he is, and nods. “Guess so, sure.”

Rayon smiles again. “Good.”

With both of them working together, Mike taking instruction from Rayon, they have the Duke sweating in surprisingly short order, cursing in a steady stream, voice hitching and shaky. Rayon loves it, loves watching the careful facade crumble and fall away in pieces, the flamboyant mercurial performance giving way to raw need and desperation.

Seems like a man with such an open craving for attention would love having two people focused on him, but the Duke seems bewildered by the situation, unsettled. His eyes shift from Mike to Rayon and never hold their gaze as he pants and twists and swears. His legs aren't moving him at this point, so Mike's doing all the work of lifting him. Rayon suspects in an hour or so the Duke's going to have some amazing bruises on his hips and ass from Mike's grip. (He kinda wants to see that. He'll have to figure out an excuse to get him back over here within the next week instead of the usual month or so from now.)

Rayon moves behind the Duke to nip at the back of his neck, bite his shoulders and suck marks down his spine, one hand lingering on his chest. (He avoids the scars by memory; the deadening of sensation the Duke has there is apparently the opposite of sexy, and no one needs him going soft in the middle of this.) The Duke groans in a way that sounds like it's meant to be a complaint, but comes out much too breathless. Mike bends up at the waist and gets his mouth on the nipple Rayon’s not playing with, and the Duke makes a sharp noise and reaches for his dick. Rayon grabs both his wrists and wrestles them behind his back.

“Rayon,” the Duke growls, wrists jerking and twisting in his grip, and Rayon doesn't miss the way his hips twitch when Rayon’s hold is unyielding. “S-stop that, you wretch! _Nnh_ \--let go!”

“Don't think I will,” Rayon says. “You like it like this.” Being held down, not so much, but so long as he can still move, having his hands trapped gets to the Duke in the best way.

Predictably, he swears in response and struggles harder so Rayon has to actually work to hold him.

“Hey,” Mike says, and when Rayon glances over his eyes are sharp on the two of them. “You'd stop if he-- _ah_ \--needed you to, right?”

Rayon frowns at him, then realizes how this game must look. “Yeah, don't worry. I know the difference between bitchin’ just because and when it's serious.”

“Oh,” the Duke says, “you don't think-- _nngh_ \--I'm _serious_ , well let me _clarify_ \--”

“I _know_ you're not,” Rayon cuts him off, kneeling up to bite at his ear as Mike lifts him. “Because I know what it looks like when you are. Got that figured out real quick, remember?”

“ _Nnh!_ Shut up,” the Duke mutters. (Yeah, no wonder he doesn't like being reminded, goddamn idiot. Way back, he was on a roll, under Rayon’s skin and throwing barbs for all he was worth and Rayon finally went for him, got him down with his hands pinned above his head and Rayon kneeling on his thighs, shoving a hand down his pants. And did the Duke say a word? No he did fucking not, as his voice faltered and his eyes went wide behind his shades and he tried and failed to throw Rayon off. It wasn't until he went still and stopped talking, breathing shallowly with his eyes shut tight, that Rayon realized there might actually be a fucking issue, and the Duke was no help at all figuring out what, mouth stubbornly closed over any sign of weakness. Rayon had to work it out by trial and error. Yeah, he's had reason to learn what _serious_ looks like. He's not likely to forget.)

“For one thing,” Rayon says to Mike, “if he actually wanted me to stop somethin’, he'd never say it straight out. He'd bitch about bein’ bored or thirsty or somethin’ completely unrelated--”

“Pardon _me_ ,” the Duke says pointedly, “I didn't realize we were-- _hnn_ \--here to _gossip_ , or I would have been sure to-- _mmh_ \--bring my _knitting_.”

“--Or say shit like that,” Rayon finishes, and the Duke makes an irritated noise. “Mostly you just gotta pay attention.”

“Huh,” Mike says, gaze flicking between them, and nods.

The Duke huffs and squirms. “Delightful as this is,” he says, voice strained, and Rayon snorts and bites at the side of his neck.

“Someone getting impatient?” Rayon says.

“You did say,” Mike says, breathing hard, “that we were gonna--make him scream.”

Rayon grins slowly. “I did say that, didn't I.” Holding the Duke’s wrists firmly with one hand, he slides the other arm around his waist and strokes a fingertip down the quivering urgency of his dick.

The Duke makes a shaky, unstrung noise, loud and desperate. Rayon teases him with touches too light and fleeting to do anything but madden, and the Duke bucks and struggles, yanking at his wrists, and finally lets out a whine that makes Mike bite his lip.

Rayon’s voice is rougher than it was when he says, “You gonna ask nice?”

The Duke makes a noise halfway between a growl and a groan. “You-- _nngh_ \--degenerate scoundrel, you're well aware-- _aaaahh!_ ”

Rayon teases more firmly for a stroke or two, then quits. The Duke whimpers desperately. “Yeah,” Rayon says, “I know bein’ nice isn't your strong suit. But I figure you'll make an exception this time. If you want to come.”

The Duke gasps for breath and it sounds like sobbing, the way it shudders out of him. His wrists jerk once against Rayon’s hold, but he's barely trying by now. “ _Please_ ,” he says very low.

“Can't hear you,” Rayon says, stroking up the Duke’s body to play with his nipples again.

“ _Ah! Nnh_ , you-- _ah_ \--please!”

“That's better,” Rayon says, satisfaction warm and low in his gut, sitting oddly with his body's exhausted lack of interest. He holds his palm up to the Duke’s mouth. “Lick.”

The Duke’s pride holds out about one second before his tongue is on Rayon’s hand, getting it nice and wet. Rayon reaches down, takes hold of him and starts to stroke. The Duke’s head tips back and he groans unsteadily.

“ _Ah_ ,” Mike says, hips moving fast as he pounds up into the Duke. “Oh god, I--soon?”

“You got it,” Rayon says, and speeds up his stroking.

It takes roughly ten seconds of breathless writhing before the Duke cries out hoarsely and comes. Mike groans and keeps going another few minutes before he follows. Rayon lets go the Duke’s wrists and lounges beside Mike, watching them both come down.

Eventually the Duke climbs off Mike with a grimace and faceplants into the bed. Mike rubs his hands over his face and sighs. “It better be done now,” he says.

“Man, don't jinx it,” Rayon says.

“My current state of cleanliness is deplorably lacking,” the Duke announces, muffled in the bedspread. “I claim the shower in the name of fine fashion and rock ‘n’ roll.”

“You wanna get clean?” Rayon says to Mike. “He'll be in there forty minutes, you might want to get there first.”

“Rayon, you treacherous cur,” the Duke says, not moving. Rayon leans across Mike to smack him sharply on the ass, right next to the reddened handprint from Mike's grip. The Duke yelps and rolls away onto his side, glaring.

“Yeah,” Mike says, sitting up. “Yeah, okay.” He pulls off the condom, drops it in the trash on his way to the bathroom.

Rayon stands up and tries to brush the wrinkles out of his slacks, finishes buttoning his shirt and tucks it in. He moves back to his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, not ready to put his coat and shades on yet.

The Duke is watching him with pursed lips and hooded eyes. “I'll get recompense for this, you know.”

“You want to pay me back for really good sex?” Rayon says. “Sounds just fine.”

The Duke curls his lip. “We'll see how _you_ like being made to beg.”

Rayon laughs at him. “Yeah, because you manage that so often.”

The Duke’s mouth pulls into a feline smile and he leans back on one elbow. “More often than you'll admit.”

Rayon isn't admitting anything. “Sure, about as often as Kane sends me a nice box of chocolates.”

“I'm going to tie you down and work you over until you're coming apart at the seams,” the Duke says, eyes narrowed. “And then I'm going to stick a plug in your ass and ignore you. You _will_ beg eventually, I guarantee.”

There are times with the Duke when Rayon is particularly glad he's too dark to show a flush easily. He keeps his face unimpressed. “You don't have the patience. Five minutes in, you'll drop all your toys so you can fuck me already.”

The Duke sits up and leans forward, stretching out one hand in a comforting gesture. “Oh, don't worry, baby,” he coos, “I wouldn't let you down like that. Two hours, minimum, from start to finish.”

Rayon twists his lips in distaste. “Don't talk to me like I'm one of your cars.” He shakes his head. “And you couldn't make it _one_ hour before finishin’ things, much less two.”

“Would you like to wager on that?”

Rayon snorts. “Why not. I got no objection to easy money.” And it'll give the Duke some motivation to make it actually happen instead of getting distracted twenty minutes in by what his dick wants. Two hours? Rayon might actually have to work for it for once. Damn, that'd be something. And if he's tied up that means he doesn't have to hold back, he can fight as hard as he wants without having to worry about going too far.

“How much? Five hundred?”

“Seven,” Rayon shoots back.

“Deal.” The Duke smiles, sure and self-satisfied.

“Seven hundred that you can't make it two hours.”

That fast the smile turns into a pout. “You said ‘one, much _less_ two’.”

In the bathroom, the shower shuts off.

Rayon rolls his eyes. “You said a minimum of two hours, I'm just holdin’ you to your word.”

“Fine,” the Duke huffs. “You are invited to my mansion to be shown how very wrong your suppositions are.”

“When? Next week?” Rayon says, and the Duke blinks. Shit, that's way sooner than they'd usually do this again, now he looks overeager. “Unless you need more time to recover,” he adds politely, and watches the Duke bristle. “I figured you'd want the rematch soon, for the sake of your pride.”

The Duke eyes him, expressive face oddly unreadable for a moment. “Next week will be fine,” he says finally in a haughty tone, and stalks into the bathroom as Mike emerges.

Rayon’s not actually sure what that was about, but he shakes it off to study Mike. The kid looks distracted, inward-turned, and the smile he quirks at Rayon when their gazes cross is halfhearted. He dresses fast.

Rayon waits until he's doing up his belt. “How you feelin’?”

“Fine,” Mike says. “Pretty sure it's done.” He shrugs on his jacket, sits down to pull on his boots.

“For the moment,” Rayon says quietly, and Mike's shoulders tighten.

“Yeah. Right, I know.”

“What do you plan to do tomorrow?”

Mike stands abruptly, hands clenching and unclenching. “I don't _know_ , all right? I'll figure something out.”

Rayon watches him, says nothing.

Mike sags and runs a hand through his damp hair, tries another smile. “I really appreciate your help. And the information. I may not like it, but at least now I know what I'm dealing with. So. Thanks.”

“Free of charge,” Rayon says dryly, and Mike snorts a startled laugh.

“Geez, I'd hope so, for the sex at least! If you were charging for that--well, I guess you'd own the Duke’s mansion by now, for one thing.”

Rayon allows himself a slight smirk. “He'd try to pay with portraits of himself. I'd probably get the mansion before he'd give up any of his limos, though.”

Mike snorts again and steps toward the door, more relaxed with the change of subject, but still looking to be gone. Kid doesn't want to face his situation, doesn't want to think about it. It'd be easy to shrug and let him go, and it's not like Rayon can force him to be smart about it.

...He can try, though. “Mike. You can't do this on your own. You're gonna need help.”

Mike's fists clench and his face goes tight. He won't look at Rayon.

“You could always go down to the Wolf’s Eye, have a drink and ask around for anyone else in heat without a partner. Or anyone who'd be willin’ to help you out. They know about heat around there, they wouldn't turn you away.”

Mike shakes his head hard, lips pulling back to show his teeth. They're humanly flat again, and his eyes are dark brown, but he looks too feral to fool anyone right now.

Rayon sighs. “Alternative is you sayin’ somethin’ to Blondie, or one of your other Burners.”

“I'm not gonna do that,” Mike snaps. “They'd feel obligated.”

Rayon arches his eyebrows. “You don't trust any of them to tell you no if they can't do that?”

“Considering the situation? No. I don't.”

“You better think about it good and hard, because I get the feelin’ you haven't realized yet what you've got here. It's a choice about who to ask, not a choice between askin’ someone or not. You don't _have_ a choice about that. You _need_ help. If you don't get it, you're gonna be in a bad place.”

“How bad?” Mike says. His dark eyes are narrow and intent on Rayon’s. “What am I looking at if I try to deal with it by myself?”

Rayon blows out a breath, shakes his head. “It won't kill you, if that's what you're askin’. But the longer you ignore it, the farther into it you get. So imagine the time you spent today tryin’ to deal with it yourself, turned into whole days where that feelin’ gets stronger and stronger and nothin’ you do shuts it down. After a couple days of that you'll be lucky if you ain't walkin’ down the street stark naked, askin’ passersby to fuck you.”

Mike's head jerks back and Rayon is pretty sure his look of offense isn't due to the language. Running a hand over his close-shaven head, Rayon thinks how to explain. “I'm not sayin’ you'd _decide_ to do that. I'm sayin’ once you get deep enough in it, you're not thinkin’ at _all_ anymore, just actin’.” He frowns at the carpet, looks back up at Mike. “Basically, you gotta make a decision now, while your mind's clear. Because if you don't, you'll make it later, when you're not thinkin’ straight.”

“Are you saying I'm gonna throw myself at whoever’s around me?” Mike sounds pissed, with a tinge of horror.

“Yeah, it's likely. Look, Mike, you're not the first wer to not be thrilled by this whole heat thing. Someone's always tryin’ to ride it out by themselves, for all kinds of reasons, some good, some really fuckin’ dumb, like to prove their mastery of their base instincts or some shit. Doing that is hard and thankless and crazy uncomfortable. I'm not sayin’ you couldn't do it; I don't know that. But I'm not sure you wanna lock yourself in a room alone for the next four days, either.”

Mike's gaze has wondered off Rayon and is fixed on the wall behind him, gone blank and distant. His voice is just as blank when he says, “Because I'll try to jump my friends if I'm around them.”

“Yeah. After a day or so, yeah.”

Mike stares at nothing for a while longer and Rayon lets him be. He's said his piece, anyway. Said more than he meant to, really, he shouldn't have hammered the point quite so relentlessly. Overstepped the bounds of helpfulness right into interference territory. Never a good idea.

“This sucks,” Mike mutters, and looks back at Rayon. “I gotta go. I'll… I'll think about it, okay? I'll make a choice before it gets that bad. I just, I gotta think a while.”

Rayon nods, hiding his startlement that the kid is bothering to reassure him. “Good luck with it,” he says. Hesitates. “And if you need more help, you can call me. We'll work somethin’ out.”

The grim look in Mike's eyes lightens some, and his smile is small but real. “Thanks,” he says quietly, raises two fingers in that salute/wave of his, and walks out the door.

Rayon looks after him a minute, then thinks to check the time. Apparently he's lost almost three hours to heat shenanigans. Now it's a quarter to four in the afternoon and it feels like the end of a damn long day already. Tipping his head back against the wall, he closes his eyes and tries to decide if he hopes to get a call tomorrow, or not.

(Mike doesn't call. Rayon tells himself the kid clearly figured something out and puts it out of his mind.)

A week later the Duke has Rayon over to visit, ties him down and works him over for two and a half hours. The Duke gets the money from the wager, but Rayon’s pretty sure who really won.


	2. Totally should've guessed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (No sex this chapter, but I trust the cute makes up for it.)

The Burners are all in the garage when Mutt pulls in. Dutch looks up from conferring with Chuck as Mike gets out.

“Hey, man, where you been?” Dutch says. He hasn't seen Mike all day, which isn't unheard of, but normally when he and Mutt are gone, Chuck is too. And when Dutch asked, Chuck didn't even know where Mike had gone.

Mike smiles and shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Had a couple things to do.” He smiles at Chuck’s little greeting wave, nods to Dutch, and starts out of the garage.

That's an oddly evasive answer, but it's not like Dutch is gonna press him on it. “Hang on, come over and see this first, Chuck’s been running some simulations and we think--”

“Sorry, I gotta--” Mike jerks his thumb towards the door to the stairs. “I'll see you guys later, all right?”

“Mikey?” Chuck says. “Is everything okay?”

There's a brief pause before he answers and yeah okay, that's alarming. That's the ‘Mike's about to try to lie’ pause, which in this case seems like bad news. “Yeah, dude, everything's fine, I just. Gotta go work on something.”

“You need any help?” Chuck offers, and Mike shakes his head fast.

“Nope, I'm good! You guys have fun, I'll be back later.” He walks out.

“Oookay,” Dutch says, frowning after him. Maybe Mike's headed up to talk to Jacob, because something’s clearly eating him. Dutch raises his voice a little. “Anybody know when the full moon is?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Julie says from under Nine Lives’ hood.

“It's close to the new moon now,” Chuck says. “Full was like a week and a half ago.”

“Huh. Okay, I got nothin’. Why’s Mike actin’ so squirrely?”

Julie looks up and frowns a little. She probably wasn't listening to the conversation, too absorbed in the tune-up she's doing.

Chuck is quiet a moment before shaking his head. “I dunno. Whatever it is, he obviously doesn't want to talk about it,” he says, shoulders hunched.

“Hey.” Dutch dares to put a hand on Chuck’s back between his jutting shoulderblades. “If it's a big deal, we'll find out eventually. Mike's not exactly great at hiding stuff.”

Chuck sighs and turns back to his screens. “Yeah, I guess.”

Texas slides out from under Stronghorn, which is raised off the floor. “Wait, was that Tiny? Tiny’s back? Texas needs to show him somethin’ awesome!”

Dutch rolls his eyes. “Yeah, us too, Texas, but he's not interested right now.”

Texas jumps up and jogs to the stairs, tossing back over his shoulder, “Chyah, not interested in your nerd things, but Tiny likes awesome stuff!”

Dutch snorts and goes back to recalibrating Whiptail’s sonics. Five minutes later Texas comes back.

“Says he'll come see it later,” he says, and Dutch glances up at his disconsolate tone. He’s ready with a snarky told-you-so, but Texas is frowning.

“What's up?” Dutch says.

Texas leans on Stonghorn. “Why's he got his door shut?”

Chuck and Julie both turn and everyone stares at Texas. “Mike's in his room?” Julie says.

“With the door shut, in the middle of the day,” Chuck says.

“Uh, yeah.”

Dutch frowns. “Was he like, havin’ a nap?”

The other three snort or scoff at the same time. “Naw,” Texas says. “Tiny don't nap! Napping’s for old guys!”

“Yeah I _know_ , but--”

“Somehow I doubt Mr. Go-Until-He-Drops retired for a lie-down at four-thirty in the afternoon,” Julie says, and Dutch rolls his eyes.

“I _know_ , but it was worth askin’! Can you think of another reason his door’d be shut right now?”

There's a brief silence. Dutch, at least, is trying not to think about the one obvious reason a guy could want to be alone in his room. He notices no one else is bringing it up either. For at least two of them, thinking about Mike like that is bad for the concentration.

Honestly, from the way he was acting, it's not really likely that's what's up, anyway.

Chuck is chewing on his lip. “Did he open the door as soon as you knocked?”

Texas scoffs. “Knock like _Texas,_ ” he high-kicks, “ _wha-chaw!_ And there's no door left to open!”

“Texas, you did _not_ kick down Mike's--” Dutch stops, huffs a sigh. “You just walked in, didn't you.”

Texas crosses muscular arms and looks mutinous. “Door’s not supposed to be closed. ‘s always open. That means we can walk in.”

Dutch presses his fingertips against one temple. “Oh my god, _Texas_ \--”

“My point was,” Chuck cuts in, “what was he--uh. How did he look?” Poor guy's blushing. Yeah, Dutch wasn't the only one thinking about what Mike might be doing.

Texas shrugs. “Looked fine. He was just sittin’ in a chair. Pretty lame, that's no reason to not come see cool stuff.”

“He didn't look… upset, or anything?” Chuck tries.

“Naw. Smiled at me, just looked kinda, iunno, distracted.”

“Huh,” Dutch says, and there's another pause while everyone considers Mike quietly sitting in a chair in his room. It's definitely a bizarre image. Mike rarely stops moving voluntarily unless he's relaxing with the Burners. “Well, maybe he _is_ tired and thought he'd rest a while.”

Julie gives him a sideways look. “Sure. That Kanebot patrol two days ago really wore him out, right?”

“What, no!” Texas says, missing the sarcasm. “Man, that was lame, there was only like five bots! And Tiny was sad because Texas took ‘em all out with his finger lasers!” He makes laser noises, firing his fingertips at imaginary opponents.

“Yeah, that's... definitely how I remember it happening,” Julie says, lips curling wryly.

“Um,” Chuck says, and stops.

“What?” Dutch says.

“This morning, his door was still closed when I got up at ten. And I--did anyone see him today? Until just now?”

Dutch shakes his head and is startled when everyone else shakes theirs.

“Really?” Julie says, glancing around. “ _Nobody_ ran into him?”

“Mutt was already gone when I came in here,” Dutch says.

“Yeah. And we don't know where he went,” Chuck says. He swallows. “Does it seem like he's avoiding us?”

They stop and think about that. Sure, Dutch doesn't _like_ the idea, but they are kind of in each other's pockets living down here. He's definitely had his issues with that in the past, had to learn to notice when it's getting to him so he can take a break, go off by himself. (Okay, maybe it's usually Mike who notices when Dutch needs a break. It's a thing that happens, is the point.) The constant company and lack of privacy never seemed to bother Mike before, but maybe they are right now.

“He's got a right to time alone if he needs it,” Dutch says, and Chuck shakes his head.

“Mike doesn't _do_ alone-time, he's happiest around people! He's always been like that, even when we were kids. Being in a room by himself was the worst punishment, to him. Maybe it's a wer thing, I dunno--”

“Heck yeah,” Texas says. “They like bein’ with their people, friends and junk.” Apparently, a large wer family lives down the street from his parents’ house, and as oblivious as Texas can be, over years of playing with the kids he seems to have absorbed a certain amount of information. He comes out with the weirdest details sometimes.

“Okay, they're a gregarious species in general,” Chuck says, “but the point is, something’s wrong if he's acting like this.”

“Wrong, like--” Dutch starts, and Chuck cuts him off, throwing his hands in the air.

“I don't know like what! If I had a fff--a darn clue I would've mentioned it!”

“Dude,” Dutch says. “Chill. He's sitting in his room, not, like, bleeding or anything. We just saw him and he looked fine, so it can't be a big deal. Maybe it's just a mood. Everybody has off days sometimes.”

“Yeah, and we know what his look like! He goes stir-crazy and cleans everything a million times, or sometimes he hangs around sighing a lot until someone agrees to go driving! That's it! Your choices are A, B, and no damn clue, we are bewildered and lost, at C!”

Dutch blinks and then rolls his eyes. Julie snickers and Texas joins her a minute later, elbowing Chuck as the tension breaks. “Lost at sea, hah!” Texas says.

Chuck sighs and deflates slightly. “That wasn't even supposed to be a pun,” he mutters.

Julie pats him on the shoulder. “We'll keep it a secret,” she says, and Chuck twitches, laughs weakly. “Anyway, Dutch is right,” Julie goes on. “If there was a problem that concerned us, Mike would let us know. Since he hasn't, it's his business, and we don't really have a right to go bugging him about it. He'll tell us if he wants to.”

“What if he's turnin’ into a zombie?” Texas says.

“He's not,” Julie says, rolling her eyes, and goes back to Nine Lives.

“Yeah, but what if he is?”

“Well,” Chuck says, humoring him, “we already dealt with that once, so we'd just have to get him to that big magnet and he'd be fine.”

“What if it's a different kind of zombie? Like from those crazy mushroom people?” Texas’s eyes widen. “What if he's turnin’ into a _mushroom zombie?!_ ”

“Mike is not turning into any kind of zombie!” Dutch says irritably.

“Yeah, and you're thinkin’ it's funny until he climbs somethin’ high and starts shootin’ spores from his head! You'll come runnin’ to Texas then!”

Chuck starts arguing with him and Dutch grumbles under his breath and turns his back on the ongoing discussion.

*

An hour or so later, Mike comes to the edge of the diner, looking down at the garage floor. They're all still there, although Dutch has been ignoring hunger pangs for a while now, and Chuck is the first to look up and see him.

“Mikey!” he says, and trips over Dutch’s toolbox hurrying forward. Dutch lunges to catch him as he topples like a lamppost hit by Stronghorn, and for a second his arm is wrapped around a warm skinny chest, Chuck surprisingly heavy against him. Then Chuck gets his feet under him and ducks away, face bright red, mumbling thanks in such a strangled tone Dutch almost misses it.

“Whoa! You okay there, buddy?” Mike calls down.

“I--yeah I'm fine! Are--I mean--how are you?”

“I'm all right,” he says, and Dutch looks around to see Julie and Texas looking up now, because yeah, that was a weirdly neutral response. Mike doesn't _do_ neutral, he does cheerful or enthusiastic or occasionally annoyed. “I actually need to talk to you guys,” Mike goes on. “You wanna come up here?”

“You mean, you don't want to come down and hang out with Mutt?” Julie says, half teasing, half puzzled.

Mike smiles and shrugs. “Jacob’s up here. I'd like to talk with you all at once.”

Dutch glances around and meets the others’ eyes. No way Mike meant that to sound as ominous as it did, but they're all concerned now. “Yeah,” Dutch says. “Hang on, we'll be right up.”

He and Chuck put their tools away and fall in behind Julie, who looks cool and narrow-eyed. Dutch is pretty sure that means she's worried, but he's not positive. Julie kinda makes him uneasy sometimes, she's so dang intense. Behind them, Texas is muttering about zombies again.

When they're all sitting at the diner bar, Jacob standing behind it looking quizzical, Mike runs both hands through his hair and says, “So, I. Huh. I don't know how to start.”

“Bro, are you really okay?” Chuck says.

“Yeah, man, you've been actin’ kinda funny today,” Dutch adds.

“Ah. Yeah, well.” Mike takes a deep breath. “It's been a weird day. I--I found out, apparently wer going into heat is a real thing, not a myth, so. Yeah. I'm--in it.”

Chuck makes a strangled kind of squeak, goes bright red and claps both hands over his mouth. “Whoa,” says Texas. Julie is frowning, looking just as bewildered as Dutch feels.

“Wait,” she says, “how do you _know_ it's a real thing? I mean, and you're not just, y’know, having one of those days?”

Mike opens his mouth and Texas cuts him off. “Uhh, because it's totally a real thing? Thought everybody knew that!”

“Not up in Deluxe,” Mike sighs.

Julie looks from Texas to Mike, caught between doubt and confusion. “You're serious.”

Dutch totally sympathizes, because on the one hand, Texas’s version of reality isn't exactly safe to take at face value, but on the other, Mike wouldn't joke around about something like this. Mike looks less than thrilled, for that matter, tight around the eyes and tired as he nods.

“Real serious, Jules.”

“Hoo boy,” Jacob says, and turns on his heel. “I think that's my cue to leave so you kids can talk this out.”

“Wait, what?” Mike says. “Jacob, wait! Why are you leaving?”

Jacob wheels around with his grey brows high. “Aren't you going to ask which of them is interested in helping you out? I think that's a conversation that’ll go more smoothly without me, don't you?”

“Ask--what?” Mike stares at Jacob, open-mouthed, and Dutch realizes like a punch to the solar plexus that he's _blushing_. God, he's never gonna get that image out of his head.

...Okay, so Jacob agrees heat is real. It's not just Mike misunderstanding something or Texas having one of his reimaginings of the world. Dutch works to get his head around this, trying to figure out how much of the stories he's heard can possibly be accurate. The thing is, he can't actually guess, because if wer really go sex-mad sometimes, everything he assumed was too outlandish to be true has to be reevaluated.

And Jacob is insinuating--really? Is any of this actually happening? Is this day real? Is there a reality in which it makes sense that Mike is going to ask which of the Burners wants to sleep with him?

“No!” Mike tells Jacob. “I wasn't gonna--I wanted help with _research_ , not with--I wouldn't ask that,” he finishes quietly, and Dutch kind of wants to say _Why not?_ but he's gonna wait a bit and make sure he’s fully caught up with the situation first.

“Research on what?” Jacob says, now looking dubious.

“How to resist it,” Mike says promptly.

“Wait,” Texas says, frowning. “You don't got a mate picked out?”

“A mate?” Mike says blankly.

“Yeah, y’know, someone you wanna get with and kiss and do all that junk with.”

Mike's cheeks flush darker. “Texas, I can't just--that's not something you can choose for someone else.”

“Huh?”

“I can't just--pick someone out and assume they'll be fine with that!”

“Nah, don't do that, Tiny,” Texas says confidently. “You gotta _ask_ ‘em first. ‘S important.”

Mike's eyes drop to the bar. “I can't.”

Jacob sighs. “Why not?”

Mike's voice is low. “I'm afraid they might say yes just to help me, not because they actually want to.”

“Welp.” Jacob grimaces. “Think I was right the first time. I'm going back to the kitchen where I can't hear anything. You kids actually need some advice or something, come fetch me. You're a bright bunch, you should be able to work this out.”

“But--Jacob! What, am I wrong to worry about that?”

Jacob steps over to pat Mike on the shoulder, sighing again. Mike relaxes a little, looking up at him. “I wouldn't say _wrong_ ,” Jacob says, in what is for him a gentle voice. “In most cases the concern’d be sweet. It's just in this case, it's really dumb. Now, you kids get cracking with the honesty, I'm going to be in the kitchen singing loudly.” He skids through the door like all the demons of teenage sexual confusion are at his heels.

Dutch stares after him. “Man, he's spry for an old guy.”

Does Jacob know? That sure sounded like he knew that at least one of the Burners has a thing for Mike. The question is, which one does he know about? Dutch is only sure about himself and Chuck (because come on, strangers passing in the street are sure about Chuck). He wonders about Texas, too, but Julie is totally opaque to him.

“‘In this case’--what case? Why is it dumb?” Mike says, also looking after Jacob, frowning. “And what did he mean about honesty? It's not like anybody’s lying, here.”

Dutch carefully avoids that question, getting straight to the point instead. “Sounded like you had somebody particular in mind for that mate idea,” he says as casually as he can manage. “That right?”

Mike looks at him, nods.

“Well, the person you like must care about you a lot,” Julie says, her voice even, “if you're afraid they might sacrifice their comfort to help you.”

“The people,” Mike corrects in a mutter, and Dutch swears he can feel the others go on point, just as alert as he suddenly is (though he's probably projecting). If Mike likes someone, the thought process goes, that person isn't likely to be me--but if Mike likes _two_ people, I might just have a chance at being one of them. “And yeah,” Mike finishes. “They do.”

Chuck finally drops his hands from his red face to pull up a screen and starts typing. Dutch would bet he's looking up wer in heat and hopes he uses a better search term than that, or he'll just be pulling up porn. ...Not that Dutch would know.

“So, what makes you so sure they aren't also attracted to you?” Julie says.

Mike gives her a bewildered frown. “I think I'd have noticed that,” he says, and Dutch makes a snorting noise completely involuntarily and now Julie and Mike are both looking at him, oh god, okay.

Dutch coughs and says, “Y’know, man, I really don't think you would.”

“And either way, that's a terrible reason to not ask them at all, especially if you're talking about more than one person,” Julie says. God, she's being so calm and reasonable. If she _is_ in the same state as Dutch and Chuck, girl’s got the self-control of a--well, of a double agent whose survival depends on her acting, yeah. “Just explain that you'd rather they be honest about what they want and don't want, because you don't want to hurt them.”

“Yeah,” Dutch adds, heart beating faster. “If they actually care about you at all, they're not gonna lie about that. That'd be a crummy thing to do to you.”

“Yeah,” Texas puts in, to Dutch’s surprise. “So you should ask him, like I said.”

“Ask… who, Tex?” Mike says carefully as they all stare at Texas.

“The little man over there! Ask Chuck,” Texas says. “Duh!”

“ _Gnkh?!_ ” says Chuck, bolting upright on his stool, and starts waving his hands, not even noticing when they go through his screen and make it fizz. His head whips towards Mike and quickly away again. “Ahahaha Texas, wha--he's not--Mike's not gonna--”

Mike glances at him and sighs. “Texas, he doesn't think of me like that.”

Julie rubs her forehead with one hand. Texas frowns. Dutch spreads his hands on the bar and says in disbelief, “He _what?_ ”

“Wait, I--Mikey, what do you--”

“I don't get why everyone thinks it's like that,” Mike says, frowning at Dutch and Texas. “Especially you guys, I thought you'd know better.”

This dumbassery is ridiculous and Dutch has had enough. “Well, let's see! Maybe it's because of the way Chuck perks up anytime you walk into the room?”

“Dude!” Chuck protests. “That's not--”

“Sure,” Julie says, “or the way he obviously thinks everything you do is incredible, and he'd hero-worship you if he could, but instead he has to settle for being your best friend.”

“Julie!” Chuck squeaks, and she slants him a smile as he clutches his hands in his hair, the screen in front of him winking out.

“Mike,” Dutch says, “he would do _anything_ for you. Isn't that kind of a clue?”

“That's because he's my best friend!” Mike says.

“Who happens to be in love with you, but yes!” Chuck says, and then freezes absolutely still, facing straight ahead. Dutch isn't sure he's breathing, and on the part of his face not hidden under thick bangs the flush is fading fast as he goes pale.

The meaning seems to take a moment to get through, and then Mike's eyes go just as wide. “You… wha… really?” he breathes, and the look on his face makes Dutch’s fingers itch for a pencil even as it aches in his chest. Mike's mouth is open in shock, his eyes lit with hope and astonishment and joy, and Dutch can't be unhappy about this even though it closes off his own chances.

He glances over at Texas, down at Julie, wondering if either of them are dealing with the same sweetly painful mix of regret and gladness. If they are, it's not visible on their faces. Julie’s wearing a tiny smile that's impossible to read and Texas is watching intently, mouth a little open.

Sitting back, Dutch watches over Julie’s head as Chuck nods jerkily and Mike breaks into an amazed grin. God, these two. Hot in such different ways and doing this careful dance around each other for _ages_ , and now they can finally stop, finally get what they both want.

“That's awesome,” Mike says softly, and reaches out to take Chuck’s hand.

Chuck looks down at it, jerks his head up to face Mike and heaves in a shaky breath. “Yeah? You're not, uh, mad or--this isn't weird?”

Mike blinks. “No? Why would it be weird, dude?” he half-laughs. “I mean, I love you too.” He glances around at the others, opens his mouth and closes it, something strange in his face. Looks back at Chuck, smiles again. “Of course I love you.”

“I--ah--oh my god,” Chuck says in a choked voice, and pulls his hand free to join the other as he covers his face and shakes, gasping wetly for breath.

“Chuck! Are you--don't cry, dude,” Mike says in distress, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I thought you'd be happy!”

“He is happy, Mike,” Dutch sighs. “That's relief, right there.”

“Oh. Yeah?” Mike says to Chuck, and Chuck manages a nod. “Okay. That's okay,” Mike says softly, and gets off his stool to stand beside Chuck and wrap his arms around him. Overwhelmed, Chuck buries his face in Mike's shoulder, clinging to his jacket and heaving with muted sobs. Mike strokes his back, face soft.

It's almost too much, watching the tenderness between them. Julie’s looking down at her arms folded on the bar, but Dutch can't look away. He's known for a while now that he probably shouldn't like watching Mike and Chuck as much as he does, that it's maybe a little weird to feel so fierce and warm and soft over someone else's relationship, but he can't help it. He likes them both, he wants them both to be happy, and they are, together. Watching them hurts, a deep, bruised-feeling ache under his breastbone, and he doesn't care.

After a while Chuck stops shuddering and his breathing calms. He sniffs hard, face still hidden against Mike, and Mike murmurs something to him. Chuck shakes his head and Mike chuckles. “Okay, buddy, whatever you need.” Mike kisses his hair and Chuck squeaks, except it comes out kind of a croak. Dutch bites his lip to hide a smile, because geez that's cute.

Slowly Chuck peels himself away from Mike. He scrubs his sleeves across his face and turns back to the bar, shoulders hunching. “Sorry,” he mumbles hoarsely as Mike slides back onto his stool.

Julie rolls her eyes, smiling crookedly. “Don't be.”

“Seriously, man, don't worry about it,” Dutch adds. “We're just glad you guys are happy.”

“Yeah,” Texas says in a suspiciously thick voice, and sniffs. “Oh, but hey!” he adds, sounding more normal. “Who's the other one?”

“The other what?” says Mike.

“You said you had two people you liked, right? So who's the other one?”

“Uh.” Mike blinks. “I. Didn't actually say _two_.”

“So it's more than two!” Texas says, completely unaffected by this revelation as Dutch sort of rocks back on his stool, staring. “Cool! So, who are they?”

“I can't--it doesn't really matter, it's not like I can be with them. I mean, you can't… do that, that's cheating. I'm not gonna--I wouldn't hurt Chuck like that.”

Chuck opens his mouth and closes it to chew on his lip, hunching more. Yeah, this is going to be tricky to discuss without hurting anyone. Dutch takes a deep breath. “Actually. Things are kinda different down here. Like, uh, for instance, Tennie’s got her eye on someone else.”

There's a brief moment where he realizes that wasn't the best way to start and everyone looks bewildered and then uncomfortable except for Mike, who's distressed. “Oh, crap,” Mike says, wincing, and Dutch raises a hand to forestall him.

“No, see--she’s not ditchin’ me. She hasn't told me who it is yet, but if she gets a chance she wants _both_ of us. She wants me, but if she can, she wants someone else too.” He looks around at Texas, who’s watching with his head tilted curiously, Julie, frowning in concern, Chuck, still anxious, and Mike, round-eyed and open-mouthed. “And if I've got people I want, I just gotta talk to her about it and we'll work it out. So. Uh. You _can_ be with more than one person, if you talk about it and everybody's okay with it.”

“Like, just for sex,” Mike says cautiously, “or for something more, uh, serious?”

“For whatever you want, whatever you work out with the people you're interested in, I guess,” Dutch says with a shrug. “Tennie was talkin’ relationships for sure, I know that much.”

“Polyamory,” Chuck says, unhunching a little, and coughs to clear his throat. “Yeah, that is, actually, a thing. Um, you may have noticed, there's kind of a lot of what Deluxe would consider _deviant lifestyles_ down here. So, yeah, there are alternative practices for, like, everything, and some that are pretty widespread.”

“Uh,” Dutch says, blinking at Chuck.

Chuck crosses his arms defensively. “There's a lot of interesting information on the Motorcity network, okay? Sometimes I just… look around.”

“Huh,” Julie says, apparently an innocent listening noise except that Chuck starts blushing again.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, biting his lip… to hide a smile. Oookay.

“Anyway,” Dutch says, trying to get his brain on track instead of considering what information, exactly, Chuck might have looked up in the past and whether Julie helped. (Or hindered? Sitting in his lap, blocking his view of the screens, laughing as he sputtered and went red and moaned for her-- _oh wow no,_ no, brain, heat is not contagious, you have _no_ excuse, cut it out!)

“...Uh, yeah.” Dutch looks down at the bar because if he looks over at Mike, Chuck and Julie are right there too. He just needs a minute to get it together. “The problem here is,” he says carefully, “if Chuck thinks he's standin’ in the way of your happiness, Mike, he's gonna say whatever he thinks he should whether he's okay with it or not.”

“Hey!” Chuck says.

Okay, now Dutch can safely look up at him, raising his eyebrows. “You gonna tell me that's not true?”

Chuck’s mouth tightens and he seems to struggle internally. Finally he bursts out, “What if I want someone else too,” and goes bright red.

“Um,” says Julie, wincing. “Not Claire, right?”

Chuck sort of dissolves onto the bar, arms over his head, fingers tugging fitfully at the cloth of his sleeves. “No,” he says, low and muffled. “She's not… I _know_ she's not interested, I just.” His back heaves as he sighs. “No. Someone else.”

“Well, hey,” Mike says, and Chuck turns anxiously, but Mike's starting to smile. “That could work. Yeah?” He looks from Chuck to Dutch and back. “It'd be fair, then. I mean, I guess that could get complicated, but if everybody's happy, that's the important thing, right?”

Chuck nods cautiously and Mike grins in delight. “Awesome!”

“I mean,” Chuck says uncomfortably, “It's probably academic in the first place, because I don't think, um, they're probably not interested--”

“Just like Mike wasn't interested in you, right?” Dutch says.

“Haha, and I didn't think you were either, Chuckles,” Mike says. “So maybe we should just try it! You ask yours and I'll ask mine? It's only dinnertime, that's not too late to call whoever it is!”

Chuck’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he groans and hides his reddening face again.

“You don't have to, Chuck,” Julie says. “You can take as long as you need.”

“Yeah, not everybody gets a kick out of jumping off high places without a safety net,” Dutch says.

“ _You_ have some time pressure, though, Mike,” Julie says. “Assuming you want a chance at going through heat with these people around you.” Mike's eyes flick from her to Dutch to Texas and he swallows. Julie goes on, “I guess we can't be sure the folks you like will want to move that fast, but there's a chance they will. Depending on how much they want you.”

Mike nods, looking from face to face with wide eyes. “Yeah. Okay, yeah.” He takes a breath, lets it out again without saying anything. Dutch is getting a weird squirmy fluttery feeling in his stomach, because there's no reason for Mike to be sitting here staring at them when he should be leaving, right? Finding a private place to call some folks up to ask them if they want to be with him. Unless… he doesn't need to make any calls...

“Yeah,” Mike says again. Dutch has never seen him nervous before. It's a completely new look on him, bizarre and endearing even as it makes Dutch nervous too. Mike keeps opening his mouth, nibbling on a corner of his lip, taking another breath, closing his mouth again. “ _Okay_ ,” he says finally, putting his hands flat on the bar. “Honestly, guys, I--I want all of you.”

There's a beat of silence as that hits them.

“Oh thank god,” Dutch says, collapsing onto the bar.

“Shyeah,” Texas says, sounding relieved. “Texas is awesome. Who wouldn't want this?” Dutch can tell without even looking that he's flexing. “Texas and Tiny make a great team!”

Chuck is giggling, sounding slightly unhinged. “Oh my god, I should’ve guessed, shouldn't I? I totally should’ve guessed.”

Julie lets out a long, near-silent breath and when Dutch looks up to see if she's okay with this, she's slipped off her stool and gone over to Mike. One hand on his cheek, one on the back of his neck, she pulls his head down and kisses him fiercely. She means _business_. Dutch’s brows shoot up and his face heats just watching.

“Ahaha _holy shit_ ,” Chuck whimpers.

Mike is panting when she lets him go, and he stares at her with round dark eyes. “Uh. Wow, Jules.”

Looking smug, Julie slides back onto her stool and glances around at them. “So, seems like this could work.”

“Yeah,” Dutch says, a little breathless.

Mike turns that wide-eyed stare to him and then to Texas. “Wait, I--are you guys serious? You _all_ \--?”

“Want you too?” Dutch says. “Sure looks like it. Right, Texas?”

“Yep.”

Mike shakes his head, still staring. “But I didn't--you don't-- _how?_ ”

Julie tilts her head, smiling a little. “Sorry, cowboy, you're gonna have to be a little clearer than that. ‘How’ what?”

Mike swallows and says softly, “How did I get this lucky?” Eyes bright, he looks at them like they're all unimaginably precious. It's hard to meet his eyes with that look in them, but Dutch tries to do it long enough to reflect that feeling back at him. Mike's the special one here; the rest of them just were smart enough to notice.

Then Dutch has to drop his gaze, smiling sheepishly. “Seems like we all got lucky,” he says with a shrug, and Mike and Julie both nod.

“Heh, yeah,” says Texas. He leans forward onto the bar to see past Dutch to Mike. “So, Tiny, you need it now?”

A shock of heat goes through Dutch at the reminder that, yeah, sex with Mike is no longer a purely hypothetical thing, but on the table for the near future. Potentially the _really_ near future. For Dutch, not some random other person Mike likes. Dutch, personally, could have sex with Mike soon. Holy crap.

Mike looks startled and shakes his head. “No, not yet. We can hope it'll wait til tomorrow, but even if it doesn't, we've probably got until, I dunno, middle of the night sometime.”

“Really?” Chuck says. “It's got that slow a build?”

Mike hesitates.

“Mikey, tell me you're not trying to ignore it until you can't anymore,” Chuck groans.

“I'm not!” Mike protests, and then sighs. “I just, I already took care of it today.”

“Oh cool!” Texas says. “With who?”

And Dutch was thinking in terms of Mike taking care of it by _himself_ , but now that he thinks about it if heat worked that way it wouldn't even be a problem, which means Mike had sex earlier today. Which is distracting enough by itself, but when Dutch thinks about him having sex with some faceless person, the hurt and anger and the protective feeling that surges up is all a little over the top. Gotta get a hold of that. It's not like the Burners own him just because they're gonna be with him now.

“Whoa, man,” Dutch says to Texas as Mike hesitates again, “let's not even go there. Just, don't even ask.”

“Uhh, but I did ask,” Texas points out.

“Yeah, because you have a habit of saying really stupid crap! Mike doesn't have to tell us a darn thing, okay?”

“But Texas needs to know!”

“Oh yeah? Why?” Dutch challenges him. “Think about it! Why do you need to know who Mike was with?”

“Cuz Texas needs to know who he's up against!” Texas snaps, slamming a fist down on the bar.

Dutch puts a hand on his forehead and groans, but Mike breaks in before he can find the words.

“Hey, no. Tex, you're not competing with anybody, okay, bud? Not any of the Burners, and definitely not… anyone else. You guys are--I like you all way better, okay? _Way_ better. Than anyone else. You don't have to worry about that, ever.”

There's a pause as Dutch and probably the other three deal with a mix of comfort and embarrassment with the best grace they can. Sometimes Mike is too sweet and earnest to handle. (It's still really nice to hear.)

Next to Dutch, Texas mumbles, “But Texas still wants to know.”

Dutch huffs. “Yeah, and you know what?” he says in an undertone. “You'll live.”

“Good!” Julie says briskly over them. “Now, I'm starving. Anyone else want some food?”

*

They head into the city for once instead of staying on the outskirts. Mike can admit to himself that this is a bit of a sacrifice on his part because there's actual traffic and you usually can't even break thirty, but Dutch repainted the sign for the restaurant they're going to and the owner likes feeding him and his friends. And the food's a little fancier than Antonio’s, which sort of seemed appropriate. Mike can deal with the traffic, he's not gonna complain about _anything_ right now.

He is a little worried about something, though. “Hey, Chuckles,” he says at a stoplight, fingers tapping on the wheel.

Chuck is muttering to himself, face lit by the glow of his screens. “--typically six to ten hours ‘tween satiation an’ the next period of arous--uh. Yeah?”

“Are you really okay with this? I mean, me being with everybody. It just seems like it's not really fair that, like, one minute we're gonna be dating, and the next minute I'm dating _all_ of you.”

“Uh.” Chuck glances over at him, tentative. “But, you _are_ still dating me, right?”

“Yeah, of course!”

“And. What you said before, about, uh. How you f-feel about--”

Mike grins at him. “How I'm totally in love with you?”

Chuck chokes off a squeak and Mike watches his throat move as he swallows. “Y-yeah. Uh. S-seriously?”

Mike laughs a little. “Seriously, dude. I mean, I've known you a long time, I kinda had a while to fall in love with you. I _like_ the others a lot, I'm crushing hard on all of them, but you were first, you know?”

“...Yeah.” Chuck takes a long breath and lets it out slowly. What Mike can see of his face is less anxious than thoughtful, the lip nibble more contemplative than stressed. “So… Yeah, Mikey. I'm okay. I mean, I guess I'm a little worried you'll end up liking Julie or Dutch better than me--”

“Not gonna happen. I'm never gonna like anyone more than you.”

“Bro, you can say that all you want, I'll still worry about it. Uh. Thanks for, y’know, saying it, though.”

“I'll keep saying it until you believe me,” Mike says, shrugging, and puts the car in gear to move forward again-- _geez_ these lights are long. “...I notice you're not worried about Texas, though,” he adds a minute later, amused.

Chuck snorts. “Texas is a jerk. A hot jerk,” he adds in a mutter that Mike is probably not supposed to hear, “but a jerk.”

“Oh-ho!” Mike says as the grin takes over his face. “Texas, huh?” That's great, that's really good! Man, it'd be so awesome if it turned out the whole team could do this thing, everybody just--liking each other. That's just about the best thing he can imagine.

“...omigod,” Chuck says, muffled into the hands covering his face. “Shuttup, shuttup, _no_.”

And because he's a good friend, Mike doesn't say another word. They're almost there anyway.

He keeps grinning, though.

*

Dinner is kinda funny, when Dutch thinks about it. The food is great, and when they forget what's going on it's just like any other Burner meal, casual and friendly and boisterous and fun, lots of snarking back and forth and teasing each other. Then abruptly someone remembers about Mike and heat and dating everybody and oh _wow_ , and as soon as everyone else sees the look on their face they all remember too, and this wave of sudden stammering and blushing and really dumb, moony smiles goes around the table. (Okay, that last one is just Dutch, Chuck looks _adorable_ with that shy little blushy smile and Julie looks like a sleek Deluxe cat who somehow got a bowl of Motorcity cream. Texas’s mouth just kinda falls open and he forgets what he was saying, which is cute when his mouth isn't full of food. Mike looks pleased and happy and can't stop smiling at them all.)

So they all keep getting thrown off their usual rhythm, kinda, and it's not a bad thing at all, it's just--different. Nervous and excited and interested.

About halfway through the meal, Chuck clears his throat and starts telling them what he's learned about heat so far, stopping abruptly every time someone walks by the table. He gets distracted once, goes on an intrigued tangent about wer physiology and has to be nudged back on course. And then after a while, he goes quiet, flushing red.

“Chuck?” Julie says, knocking her shoulder gently against his.

“You all right, buddy?” Mike says.

“Fine!” Chuck says, high-pitched, and stuffs a bite in his mouth in a blatant stalling tactic.

“You gonna tell us what's got you all bothered?” Dutch asks when he's had a minute to chew, and Chuck groans quietly.

“Ngh,” he mumbles, and swallows. “Okay, there's--there's some other stuff you guys need to know, but uh, ahaha, I _can't talk about it here!_ ” he hisses, shoulders around his ears. Julie pats him on the back.

“Okay, dude, no problem,” Mike says, shrugging. “You can tell us about it later. We got plenty to figure out after dinner anyway, let's just chill right now, okay?” He smiles around the table and everyone smiles sheepishly back.

They do enjoy the rest of dinner, but no one's got the patience for dessert, not even Texas.

*

When they get back to the hideout, the Burners follow Mike up to the lounge area. Mike, Chuck and Dutch take the couch, Julie curls up in her usual armchair and Texas sits on a chair turned backwards (because that's the most badass way to sit, apparently. Whatever).

Mike’s arm is around Chuck, who’s leaning into him, blushing and chewing on his lip and trying not to smile. Dutch swallows and tries to stay casual as Mike's other arm curls around Dutch, Mike’s hand warm on his shoulder, but it's kinda hard not to blush and grin like a dope.

“Okay,” Mike says, “first, I guess I need to ask who's willing to have sex now--I mean, the next time it,” he grimaces and semi-shrugs, careful not to jog either companion, “starts up again--and who wants to wait. I really… It really sucks that I never tried to say anything before, because I'd rather, like, romance you guys properly instead of just demanding things, but--”

“Dude,” Dutch says. “No. You're not _demanding_ anything, okay? You literally just asked us what we _wanted_ , that's not how demands work. So, okay, who wants sex with Mike whenever and who wants romancin’ first. Show of hands for--”

“ _Wait wait wait!_ ” Chuck gasps. He's bright red and his knees are pulled up to his chest. The sheepish but irrepressible smile is gone and only the lip-chewing remains. “I'm kind of… not really comfortable with this? Can't we just, you know, tell Mike what we're okay with individually? Instead of, um, in front of everyone?”

“Oh,” Dutch says lamely. He feels like a jerk; of _course_ Chuck would be uncomfortable trying to figure out exactly what he wants, what he’s willing to do, while everyone's looking at him. “Yeah, man, no problem. Sorry, didn't mean--”

“Texas wants romancing,” Texas interrupts, arms crossed on the back of his chair.

Everyone turns to look at him. “What, seriously?” Chuck blurts out.

Texas frowns at him. “Uh, _yeah_. Gotta show Texas some respect, gotta treat him right before you get the keys to his sweet love-machine.”

Julie gets an odd look that Dutch is pretty sure means she's stifling a giggle fit. Dutch suppresses his own snort, because even if the wording is ridiculously _Texas_ , it's a reasonable sentiment and he wouldn't understand that Dutch was amused by the former, not mocking the latter.

“Huh,” Chuck says faintly. “Me… me too.”

Which is fine, obviously. Dutch isn't going to judge Chuck any more than Texas for wanting to move a little more slowly, but why is he suddenly okay saying it out loud--?

“Wait,” Dutch says, frowning past Mike at him. “Did you think that was a problem? You thought we were gonna give you a hard time?”

Chuck’s shoulders hunch and his head ducks against his bent knees. “Maybe,” he mumbles into them. “It's not like there’s no precedent. LARPing, being jumpy--I'm a regular laugh riot.”

Except this is a lot more delicate of a subject, which is _completely different_. “Wha--man, that stuff’s just teasin’! This--”

“Yeah, and it _sucks_ ,” Chuck says fiercely, then wraps his arms around his knees and hides his face. Mike strokes his back, looking dismayed.

Dutch’s mouth is open, the words _but it's a sign of affection_ and _it's a joke, you shouldn't take it seriously_ pressing for exit, but he chokes them back and swallows them. “I wouldn't mess with you about this, that wouldn't be cool,” he says instead, persisting. “And neither would Texas, I mean, he agrees with you!” ...And Chuck dared to say it as soon as he realized Texas had, which might suggest he was less worried about Dutch than about Texas being a jerk, but...

“Mm,” Chuck mumbles. “‘tever.” Even with his face hidden, he looks miserable. His hunched back, the tension in his arms, his whole skinny frame radiates unhappiness as he sighs. “Sorry. We should--I got us off topic, we need to--”

“Don't apologize, buddy,” Mike says, rubbing circles on his back. “It's fine, we've got plenty of time to work things out.”

...Even if Texas is the main offender, how often does Dutch just ignore it when Texas rags on Chuck for being easily startled and shrieking a lot? It's just part of living with Texas, like having muscles flexed in your face at unexpected moments through the day, but it seems like Chuck can't brush it off that easily. Dutch could say something to Texas when he starts bugging Chuck, he could side with Chuck, call Texas out--but he didn't know Chuck needed him to. And Dutch _has_ made jokes about the LARPing, because it's kinda funny and cute and weird and very Chuck, and he didn't realize Chuck might be taking what he said a lot more seriously than he meant it.

He wants to kiss Chuck, not make him unhappy.

Dutch breathes in. “Yeah,” he says, “don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry. I'll quit joshin’ you about the LARP stuff. I wasn't serious about it, I just didn't realize--I didn't mean to hurt you, all right?”

Mike's hand squeezes Dutch’s shoulder, grateful and approving. It helps to push back the guilty ache.

Chuck raises his head. He puffs a breath up at his bangs, which part briefly to show one hazel eye studying Dutch. Chuck hesitates and then nods slowly.

Dutch sighs relief and turns to Texas, raising pointed eyebrows because, yeah, Texas has a _lot_ more to apologize for.

Texas looks uneasy, eyes shifting around the room before he huffs and says all at once, “If Texas says he's sorry does he get a kiss?”

Chuck’s head jerks up, then turns to Mike after a minute. Mike's smile is bewildered, but he shrugs willingly enough. “Sure, I'll kiss you if you apologize to--”

“No, not a kiss from Tiny, a kiss from you,” Texas interrupts, eyes on Chuck. What the heck, no fair, Dutch thought it first!

Well. _Maybe_ he got there first. If Texas wants Chuck too, there's no way to tell how long that's been the case. Maybe he and Dutch have both been thinking it for a while.

Chuck freezes. Then he takes a shaking breath and says, “You can't _joke_ about that. That's not cool!”

Texas glowers at him. “I'm not jokin’ about nothin’! Texas wants a kiss!”

“Well maybe Texas should’ve thought about that before he was a jerk for the past year and a half!” Chuck snaps. Ooh, ouch.

Texas twists his mouth and scowls at the floor. Just when Dutch thinks the discussion is over, Texas mutters, “Sorry. Didn't mean to make you feel bad. Was just tryin’ to piss you off.”

Despite the amazing progress that is actually getting an apology out of Texas, Dutch absolutely can't help breaking in at that point. “Texas, what the heck, man? Why would you be tryin’ to make Chuck mad, what is even wrong with you?!”

“Hey, no,” Mike says to Dutch in mild reproach. “Stay cool, man.”

“What else am I sposed to do?” Texas explodes, spreading his hands. “He ain't impressed by Texas’s sweet moves, or posin’, or stories, or nothin’! None of you guys are! If Texas wants a little attention, he's gotta make somebody mad!”

“Oh my god,” Julie says, and starts laughing, hands over her face. “Oh man, I don't believe this. Ahaha, oh god. Okay.” Dropping her hands, she grins around at all of them. “Okay, guys, I know we should get back to figuring out how this whole heat thing is going to work, but I think we should clear something up first. Raise a hand if you're interested in more than one person in this room.”

Mike lifts the hand on Dutch’s shoulder, puzzled, and so does Julie, grinning at them all like a challenge. Texas puts a hand up at the same time, still looking sulky, and Dutch licks his lips and raises his. Chuck looks around open-mouthed, then groans and lifts a hand, ducking his face into his knees again.

“Huh,” says Mike, blinking.

“Should I ask who besides Mike is interested in everyone in this room?” Julie says.

“No!” Chuck says, jerking his head up in a panic. “No, because look, if two are and two aren't, or heck, if even _one_ person is or isn't, someone gets left out. I can tell you what the chances are of everyone here liking everyone else, okay? They're not good. Let's just… get back to the main topic.”

Julie shrugs and quirks a smile at him. “Okay. What was it again?”

Dutch is pretty sure she's joking, but Texas misses that subtlety. “Gonna make Tiny _work_ for his lovin’, or give it to him right away?” he says promptly.

Julie gets her suppressing-laughter look back and nods. “Ah, right. Romance. I'd like a date, but it doesn't need to happen first,” she says to Mike, who nods.

“Got it.” He turns and looks at Dutch, smiling expectantly, and Dutch swallows, his tongue suddenly feeling much too big and clumsy for his mouth.

“Uh. Yeah. S-same.”

“Awesome!” Mike says happily.

“Hang on,” Julie says, gaze suddenly sharp on Dutch. “Have you cleared this with Tennie yet?”

Dutch snorts, relaxing. “You're kiddin’, right? She okayed Mike _months_ ago if I ever got the chance.” Pretty much as soon as she and Dutch started talking through the poly thing, actually, but he doesn't need to mention that, or that Mike isn't the only one on the okay list.

“Great!” Julie says, smiling approval at him, and turns back to Mike. “So, you've got me and Dutch to pick from tonight. According to Chuck’s research, we've probably got about eight hours from whenever you, uh, dealt with it earlier, before it revs up again.”

“When--when we stopped?” Mike says to Chuck, who nods. “Okay. So, a little before midnight, I guess?”

Dutch automatically does the math, then stops himself from wondering where Mike was at three-something this afternoon. He doesn't need to know and he should stop thinking about it.

“And it lasts an hour,” Chuck picks up, unfolding one leg and resting his chin on the other knee, “so then next... call it nine or ten in the morning.”

Mike squirms a little. “It, uh, it might take more than an hour. I really hope not. But it might.”

Chuck looks at him. “How long… did it take earlier?” It kinda sounds like no one quite knows how to refer to ‘earlier’, actually. Like maybe Dutch isn't the only one still reluctantly chewing on the thought of it.

Mike rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck to one side, then the other, avoiding everyone's eyes. “Uh. About two and a half hours. Maybe a little less, it's not like I was really tracking the time. But more than two.”

“Ahaha,” Chuck says faintly, then clears his throat. “Okay, I think we'll hope that was just a one-time thing, because otherwise we're never going to make it four days, we'll be wiped out after two.”

“Hah, speak for yourself!” Texas says.

“We?” Mike says, blinking from Chuck to Texas and back. “I thought you didn't want--”

“I meant like immediately,” Chuck mumbles, face flaming again, “not that I wouldn't at _all_.”

“Yup, that's what Texas meant,” Texas chimes in. “Take me out to lunch, Tiny, and maybe Texas’ll put out.”

“Okay wow that is _not_ the same as what I said--” Chuck says, high-pitched, and Julie sighs.

“Guys!” she says. “Getting off track again. Focus. Okay, so this sounds kind of like a sex marathon, but I think we'll be able to handle it if we work out the scheduling. I can't stay down here day and night for four days, but you shouldn't need me to, so that's fine.”

“Aw, come on, Jessie!” Texas says. “Isn't Tiny kinda more important than your dumb internment, or whatever?”

“Tex,” Mike starts as Dutch rolls his eyes.

Julie tilts her head slightly. “Texas,” she says, cutting off Mike. “If you ever wanted to get anywhere with me, annoying me is really, really not going to help. You might want to try remembering my name, for a start.”

“Uh,” Texas says, going still. “I didn't--say I was--uh--”

“I know,” Julie says. “That's why I said _if_.”

“Oh. Uh. ‘kay. Texas is gonna… be quiet now.”

Julie smiles a small, sharp-edged smile. “So, Chuck, you said at dinner there was some stuff you'd have to tell us later, right?”

“Ahaha! Oh my god,” Chuck whimpers. “Okay. Okay, um, it's about the, the sex.” His voice cracks and he covers his face. “Aha, oh god. Um. Handjobs and stuff are okay, but there needs to be--ahhhh--a certain amount of. Uh penetrative sex.” He heaves in a breath and swallows.

Oh. Uh. Huh. Dutch hadn't thought about that possibility. That's gonna be… different. With a guy.

Mike shifts in his seat and tightens his arm around Chuck. “Dude, you want me to explain? I mean, I don't know everything, but I knew that much. And I know about the, uh, did it mention about the biting?”

Chuck’s hands drop, leaving his eyes only hidden by his bangs, and he straightens in interest. (Perks up, in fact. God he's cute.) “Oh! Yeah, it did! I thought that might only work with other wer, though. It's necessary with humans, too?”

Mike shrugs uncomfortably. “At least once or twice, yeah.”

“Guys? Biting?” Dutch says.

“Yeah,” Chuck says, sounding a little distracted. “Apparently wer in heat want to either bite their partners, usually pack members, on the back of the neck, or be bitten there. It's sort of a pack bonding thing.”

“Uh, not breakin’ the skin, right?” Dutch says.

“No! No injuries involved,” Chuck says. “I guess it does sound aggressive, or dominant at least, but it seems to be more of an instinctual claiming thing, like, ‘you belong with me, stay put’.” He stops abruptly, and Dutch is pretty sure if he gets any redder he's just going to turn into a tomato, or maybe catch on fire.

Dutch has to admit, telling Mike to _stay put_ on an instinctual level where he can't ignore it is an appealing idea. The thought of having Mike chewing on the back of _Dutch’s_ neck isn't quite as pleasing, but he can put up with it if he has to.

“Going by the way it happened before,” Mike says, moving again in his seat, “I dunno if I'll bite you guys. You're… pretty much my pack, so,” he shrugs, “maybe. But, uh, I'm definitely gonna need you to bite me.”

“Need?” Julie says, tilting her head. “Or want?”

Mike breathes out hard. “Need,” he says with a lopsided smile, and abruptly unhooks his arms from around Chuck and Dutch to lean forward, elbows on his knees as he looks at the floor. “I couldn't, uh, couldn't come without it, the first time.”

Chuck makes a shivery sort of high-pitched noise that makes Dutch swallow, then yanks his legs up to his chest again, curling into a ball with his arms over his head. Which is a pretty strong reaction, even for Chuck. Sure, Mike was just talking about what he needed to come, but. ...Oh. Dutch blinks, mind abruptly invaded by the image of Mike naked and desperate, needing to be told _you're ours, you belong here_ , needing so badly to have his pack around him that he can't come without it. (Needing his Burners.)

 _Oh._ Yeah, okay, that's… potent. No wonder it's too much for Chuck. Dutch takes a deep, slow breath, halfway sure this mix of want and protectiveness and aching care is too much for him, too. Of course, Dutch wouldn't be nearly so affected by it right now if Chuck didn't make noises like that and make Dutch _think_ about it to figure out why Chuck’s having that reaction. Thanks a lot, Chuck.

“Oh geez,” Mike mutters, and rubs his hands over his face, half-laughing. “This is… really not helping.”

“Mikey?” Chuck peeks out from under his arms. “What do you mean? I, I'm doing the best I can to explain this stuff, it's--”

“No, dude, it's fine, okay? Just. Let's finish this up. There anything else we need to know?”

“Oh, right, um. Well, I guess… The rest is mostly obvious stuff like stay hydrated, eat plenty, get as much sleep as you can…”

“I have a question,” Julie puts in. “‘Penetrative’ isn't actually very clear. Who needs to be penetrated, and with what?”

...Fair question, yeah, but _geez._

Chuck chokes, face hidden again, and Dutch has to close his eyes at the wavering whimper that comes out of the huddled ball of limbs.

Echoed by a soft, hoarse whine. Dutch blinks and glances around. Texas’s eyes are wide, Julie’s mouth is open with realization, but it's only when Mike draws a rough breath and speaks that Dutch realizes it was his voice.

“ _Hh--_ ‘Who’ seemed to be mostly me. It can go the other way too, but not as often, I guess. ‘What’, uh. I mean, the obvious. Fingers didn't really. Weren't enough.”

“Mike,” Dutch says. “You okay, man?”

There's a pause as Mike just breathes, head down. “Yeah. Fine.”

That's pretty clearly not the case, but before Dutch can press the point, Julie says, “Okay, but if ‘the obvious’ isn't an option, what then?”

“What do you guys mean, the obvious?” Texas says, frowning, and Dutch flicks a look at the ceiling.

“Texas, this ain't the time--”

“A _dick_ , Texas,” Julie says in exasperation. “I don't have one. I've only got a strap-on, and I need to know if that will work.”

“...oh,” Texas says, and there's a resounding silence in which Dutch, at least, is trying not to think about that, not to picture it, not to imagine Julie using it on Mike (god that's a gorgeous image he should not have in his head). Or on Texas either (oh _god_. That's unexpectedly… _wow_ ). And he is definitely not wondering what that would feel like, or if Tennie is gonna turn up with one now, and this is proving a hard day to keep his mind out of the gutter but _dang_ , he can do better than this!

(He's relieved that Mike wants to be on the receiving end, because it's not like Dutch is that experienced to start with, but he's definitely more comfortable with that idea than the thought of trying it the other way around. If Tennie pulls out a strap-on, she's gonna have to wait a while, let Dutch think about it.)

Chuck breaks the silence with a cut-off squeak, coughs and says, “I don't know, sorry. Um, the one site I found with info that seemed dependable was kind of basic, it's really annoying how few details there were besides _get mates, have fun_. So, uh, like, toys? Ahaha nnno idea…”

Mike takes a harsh breath that shudders when he lets it out. His hands are clasped together, clenched so hard they're shaking. “Didn't work, when I. Tried this morning. A toy, I mean. I was by mys-self, though, maybe--it'd be. Different with someone there.”

(Dutch isn't thinking about Mike with a toy, okay, that's, uh, really distracting and focus on the _problem_ , okay, the problem is would it work if he wasn't alone, if it was Julie and a--nope, not thinking about that either, oh man--)

“Mike,” Julie says. “Is it starting?”

Mike lets out a noise like a growl and bites it off, head coming up in surprise at himself. Dutch stares. Mike's eyes are a pale shade of amber, edging into gold.

“Can't be,” Mike says, and shakes his head hard. “It's just--everybody's turned on and I can _smell_ it and I wanna--and we keep _talkin’_ about it but it's not _time_ yet, I can't--I have to--”

“It's not even eight-thirty yet!” Chuck says. “Why would it--”

“Did talkin’ about it and stuff turn you on so much we jump-started it early?” Dutch wonders.

Chuck’s shaking his head, fingers flickering across the screen he pulls up. “That doesn't make any sense, it wouldn't… _Rrgh_ , there's _got_ to be more information available than this!”

“Nah, not really,” Texas says, and Chuck’s hands freeze as his head snaps up.

“What do you mean, not really?” he says, sounding offended. “There's always more information if you know where to look!”

Texas shrugs. “Wer all got pack, normally, plenty of other wer around. Wanna know somethin’ bout bein’ wer, they ask somebody older. Whatta they wanna go lookin’ stuff up for?”

“That's _ridiculous_ ,” Chuck snaps. “Even if there aren't many sites like this, with wer-specific health advice, there have to be places they meet and chat, forums and--mm, yeah, search for threads on heat,” he finishes to himself in a mutter, fingers flying again.

Dutch sighs. “Okay, well, putting aside _why_ for now, we gotta deal with what we've got here.”

“I can handle it,” Mike says, almost steadily. “I'll just go--hang out. In my room until it's time.” He's on his feet before he finishes, pants visibly tight over his crotch before he turns away and strides for the stairs.

“Apparently it's time _now_ ,” Julie points out. “Go on. One of us will join you in a minute.”

Mike hesitates, half-turns. “I don't want to--you guys don't have to--”

“Mike, we _want_ to, okay?” Dutch says. “You're not pushin’ us into anything, got it?”

“Yeah,” Julie agrees. “And it's not just because we want to help you, either. Although we do. It's also that we think you're hot and we want to see you naked.” She smirks.

Dutch coughs. God, the stuff she'll say... “Uh. Yeah. And, y’know, do stuff. Like, naked stuff.” Man, he sounds like such a _dope!_ Nobody would believe he somehow managed to land a girlfriend already.

Mike stares from Julie to Dutch like he's totally failed to notice anything dopey going down. His face is flushed, his wide eyes bright gold. “Oh--kay. I'll just. Go, then.”

“Uh, hang on,” Texas says, and Mike catches himself in the doorway, looking back. Dutch glares at Texas, who apparently hasn't caught on to the urgency of the situation or he wouldn't--uh. He's blushing. Texas is _blushing_ , a noticeable ruddy tint to his tan cheeks. “Before you go off an’, y’know, stuff, can Texas get a kiss?”

It seems to take Mike a moment to process this, and Texas keeps talking. “Cuz, like, Jen--uh, Julie got a kiss, but she went and _took_ it, and that's okay for girls but Texas ain't a girl and he can't just--”

Mike reaches him in two strides and stoops, bumps into the brim of his cap, grins and pulls it off and kisses him. It lasts a few seconds and then Mike pulls away, smiling at him, and slides the cap back on Texas’s head. Texas is flushed a lot darker, eyes round like he--what, didn't expect Mike's full, devastatingly sincere attention? Dutch swallows, making a note not to look like that much of an idiot later.

“That date--lunch tomorrow?” Mike says, and Texas nods distractedly, catches up and nods harder. (Okay, he is an idiot and he drives Dutch crazy half the time, but that's really cute.)

“Awesome,” Mike says, grins around at them all and disappears through the door.

Dutch looks at Julie, who looks back at him. “Um. You got a preference?” Dutch says.

“I've never really been much for ‘ladies first’,” she says, shrugging. “Let's see, if you boys finish up around let's say ten, I'll be on at… six in the morning. Great. Oh well, I'll deal. Nice way to wake up, anyway.”

“Wait a sec,” Dutch says, blinking. “You got your, uh, stuff, the things you need, down here already?”

Julie cocks her head at him with mild sarcasm. “It's a lot safer keeping them in my room here than up there. What would a nice young lady need with a strap-on? No matter who I used it on, that would be ‘deviant behavior’ in Deluxe.”

“Hah, right,” Dutch says, feeling like an idiot again. “Makes sense.” Then he pauses as the obvious question hits him. Why the heck does Julie have a strap-on in the first place? That's not the kind of thing a girl buys if she's single. “Wait a sec, are you with somebody?”

Caught by surprise, she stares a moment, flicks her gaze from Chuck to Texas, who are both suddenly paying attention, and lifts her chin. “That's between me and Mike.”

“Oh my god,” Chuck says abruptly, and turns red again.

Dutch frowns at him, then realizes. "Oh my god,” he repeats, staring at Julie, “it's Claire, isn't it?”

Julie’s mouth drops open and she flushes slightly. “I'm not answering that,” she says after a pause.

“Right, right,” Dutch says hastily, raising his hands. “None of my business, got it, no problem.”

“ _Ghk_ ,” Chuck says, very faintly. He's sitting completely still, presumably staring straight ahead of him, still deeply flushed.

“Chuck,” Julie sighs, “stop that.”

“Dude, don't think about it!” Dutch says, because it seems like that might not feel great for Julie. Sure, those pictures shove their way into a person's head sometimes, but the trick is to either shove them out again as quick as possible or at least make sure no one can tell you're thinking it. Thing about Chuck is, everyone knows when he's thinking that stuff.

Chuck takes a minute to respond, then jerks, makes a squeaky protesting noise and ducks his head back to his screen.

“Oh, good,” Julie says, sounding exasperated. “I thought for a moment there we were going to have to find your reset button.”

“Don't _have_ a reset button,” Chuck mumbles, fingers tapping rapidfire across his keys.

“Oh, right,” Julie says, “I guess what I was thinking of would be your on/off switch.”

“I don't _have_ a--” Chuck’s head jerks up again and his mouth drops open at Julie. He makes a choked noise, face crimson. Julie gives him a small, serene smile. Chuck sits frozen for a few breaths, then goes back to his screen, hunching his shoulders like if he tries hard enough he can hide behind it.

Okay, Dutch wouldn't have caught that one on his own, but judging by both their reactions, that was definitely an innuendo and not just a cyborg joke, which means--is anyone _not_ flirting with Chuck today? Mike, Texas, Julie--Dutch is the only one, isn't he? Because he sucks at flirting. Crap, he's gotta work on that, gotta catch up--

But maybe not right now, because right now Mike is waiting for him. Wow, yeah, he's got places to be. “Um. I'll just, uh,” he says, standing up.

Still red in the face and without looking up from his screen, Chuck says abruptly, “Be good to him, okay?”

Somewhat offended, Dutch spreads his hands. “Course I'll be good to him! Come on, man, don't you trust me?” It's on the tip of his tongue to say that Chuck is free to come and keep an eye on things himself if he's that worried, but he bites it back. As much as Dutch likes the thought of having Mike and Chuck in bed at the same time, (geez, he shouldn't get greedy), Chuck probably would be more freaked and embarrassed than intrigued. If he didn't just take it for a joke, which is more likely. Not the kind of entry Dutch wants to make in the flirting races, no matter how far behind he is.

Chuck’s head comes up at that, and his blush is finally starting to fade. “No, dude, not--that's not what I--sorry. I just, he's had a really rough day, you know? He obviously didn't know what it was for a while, which means he was dealing with it from whenever it started this morning until he… went and got help somewhere.” Chuck pauses, bites his lip and tumbles on, talking faster. “And holding out is apparently not that physically dangerous, but it's seriously taxing mentally and emotionally, and so is the heat all by itself--his body is demanding things and he can't control it or make it stop, which is psychologically upsetting to start with, and the need is strong enough that if he's not around people he knows and trusts, if he doesn't have us to ground him--he could sort of... get lost in it,” Chuck finishes, nibbling on his lip again.

Dutch isn't sure what 'getting lost’ means in this case, but it doesn't sound good. “I won't let him,” he says firmly. “Don't worry, man, I'll take good care of him, all right?” He glances to Julie and Texas. “For all of y’all.”

“You do that,” Julie says, getting out of her armchair. “Chuck, you keep trying to catch us up on this heat business. I'm gonna go call Claire.”

Which is totally not proof of anything because best friends, but Dutch is still pretty sure about it, and it's good that she's checking in with her girl that this whole thing's gonna be okay with her.

Chuck’s head twitches up again. His mouth opens, then closes, and his shoulders hunch a little more as he nods, head dropping back to his screen.

Julie smiles a little, hesitates, and steps forward, leaning in around his screen to kiss the top of Chuck’s head. Chuck squeaks.

“Hey, Julie’s just kissin’ everybody today!” Texas says.

“Dude, two out of four is fifty percent,” Dutch says, mostly for something to say that isn't sighing over how cute Chuck is and how much cuter he'd probably be if Julie _really_ kissed him. “That's _half_ , not everybody.”

Texas sticks a pinkie in his ear and twists it around. “Man, it's like you're tryin’ to talk, but I just keep hearin’ these nerd noises. Aren't you supposed to be _doin_ ’ somethin’ right now?”

Dutch is about to snap at him, then thinks about whether he'd rather be arguing with Texas or getting Mike naked. Walking away has never been easier.


	3. That's what pack means

When Dutch gets up to Mike's room the door is shut, and it takes a moment to steel himself to knock, even though… everything. Mike is expecting one of them, he needs them, he's going to be happy to see Dutch--unless he was hoping for Julie, of course. But he would've said that, right?

“Dude,” says an amused voice from inside, “I know you're out there. Gotta be Dutch, because Julie wouldn't hesitate this long. C’mon in.”

Laughing sheepishly, Dutch opens the door and freezes.

Mike is on his bed, looking up to smile a greeting, completely casual about the fact that he's, uh. Naked, and clearly in need of, uh, company. Swallowing, Dutch steps in and closes the door.

He can't figure out where to put his eyes. He wants to look at Mike's face like a normal person and not some kind of perv, but that's an awful lot of bare skin and no briefs or swim trunks or anything in the way and he keeps catching himself staring. Mike looks really different from Tennie and that's such a dumb thing to think, of course they're different, he's a guy and she's a girl, he's all amazing shoulders and muscles and angles, she's clever hands and sleek muscle and compact curves and just. Dutch has never been with a guy before. This is. Really different.

“You, uh.” Dutch swallows, tries a grin. “In a hurry, man?” Ah, geez, why’d he say that, he sounds like a jerk--

Mike shakes his head quickly. “No, dude, we can totally take our time! I was kinda hoping to, actually, you deserve it. I just, uh, I dunno, thought I'd get myself ready so we don't have to stop before we can go.”

Dutch assumes he means getting their clothes off, and then Mike nods to the side table and the little bottle standing there. It still takes a minute before Dutch gets it, his eyes widening all at once. Mike got himself _ready_ , oh _god_ , oh wow, it was not this hot in here a second ago.

“Haha oh, uh. Oh.”

“...You okay, man?” Mike says, cautious because Dutch is just standing there gaping at him like an idiot, _Texas_ would be doing better than this. “You wanna sit down?” He pats a spot beside him on the bed and Dutch nods, takes a step forward and stops again.

“Oh, I should, I guess,” he starts, and peels off his shirt, tosses it on the chair Mike's clothes are draped on.

“You don't have to--uh, I mean, I'm sure not going to complain!” Mike says, laughing. “But take it as slow as you want, okay? I'm not going to, like, go feral if we're not there yet in half an hour or something.”

Dutch gets his shoes off, thinks about his pants, but stops at bare feet for now. “Man,” he says with a smile, sitting down on the bed, “I'm not sure you could go feral if you tried, you're way too chill.”

Mike's smile twists. “Not today.” He looks away, cracks his knuckles absently. “Was way too close, earlier. I've got no control, I don't like this.”

“Wha--when? Mike, your teeth didn't even get sharp until ten minutes ago--”

“No, _earlier_. Before I came home.”

“Oh.” Dutch takes a breath. He doesn't want to push Mike, but he’s got to know one thing. “Was it okay? Whoever you found, did they treat you okay?” Except they probably didn't, if he got that mad. Crap. Who was it, what _happened?_

Mike smiles at him again and shrugs, a response as blank and impenetrable as a particularly good-natured concrete wall. “It was fine, dude, don't worry about it. It just… it wasn't any of you,” he says, smile falling. “And I really wanted it to be, and I kept thinkin’ about it, and I didn't know any of you guys were even interested, so. That sucked.” He shrugs again. “That's all.”

Dutch leans in and kisses him. He shouldn't have brought it up, he knows, but he had to, and now he's got to get that look off Mike's face and this is the best distraction he’s got to offer. _I'm here, we're here, it's okay now_. It takes a moment to figure out what they're doing, how their different kissing styles mesh, but Mike is adaptable and good at everything, so of course he gets it, and then it's really, really nice. Dutch puts one hand on Mike's shoulder and one on his face and stops thinking.

He's just realizing that maybe he should have taken his pants off earlier when Mike pulls away long enough to swing a leg over and perch on Dutch’s thighs. Then they're kissing again, and Mike is close and hot and really turned on and Dutch was not prepared for a lapful of naked Mike in the first place, he can't tell if he's relieved to have his pants now or kind of annoyed about it.

He's kinda thinking _annoyed_ , but at least it helps with the whole taking it slow thing. (Mike's dick is _right there_ and he kinda wants to grab it but. Moving slow, right.) Tennie gets a little sarcastic when Dutch goes too fast--and then he stops that thought in its tracks because hold up there, this is _Mike_ , not Tennie. And he's in heat. He said _Dutch_ could go slow, not that Mike needed to.

God, Mike is really good at kissing, and a shiver goes up Dutch’s spine every time he feels those big, pointy teeth against his tongue--wait, he was trying to focus, right. Breathing harder, Dutch pulls away, one hand on Mike's jaw, one stroking up and down his side. Mike opens surprised yellow eyes.

“Hey,” Dutch says. “How did you want this to go? I mean, I guess we don't have to get it perfect this time, since we're gonna have a few chances, but I still want it to be good, you know? So, is there anything particular you want me to do, or not do?”

Mike blinks at him. “It's sex. Sex is good, especially--” he leans forward in Dutch’s lap, forehead pressing into Dutch’s shoulder, “--especially when it's. Y’know.” He shrugs. “Important to both people.” His arms come up around Dutch hard, suddenly clinging, and Dutch hugs him back, throat going tight.

“You mean a lot to me,” Mike says, quiet and close against his skin, “so it's gonna be good. Basically, just keep touchin’ me.”

Dutch swallows and laughs a little. He should have known there was no chance of doing this with Mike without it being real intense; high-intensity is just how the guy rolls. He means every word he says, too, even though they've got to apply just as much to the others. Oh god, hah, no, don't say it-- “I bet you say that to all the Burners,” he says, low voice trembling with repressed, giddy laughter.

Mike freezes for a startled moment, then says, audibly grinning, “Well, uh, yeah--” and they both bust out laughing. They take a while to calm down, but finally Mike says, still chuckling, “Seriously, dude, aha, I had no idea you guys would all be interested! Not even mentioning the whole dating everybody at once thing.”

“You know, Mike, you're a good leader and a great guy, but sometimes you're kinda dense. Like a rock.” Dutch pats him on the shoulder, grinning. “Seriously, how did you not know about Chuck?”

Mike waves a hand and shrugs, mouthing Dutch’s collarbone so he sucks in a breath. “I dunno, he's my best friend! He never--when we came down here he seemed a little different, but I mean we hadn't seen each other much for a few years before that, so I figured… you know. We'd both changed and we had to get used to each other again. And then he got that crush on Claire and…”

Dutch nods. “And you did your best to help him out.” Even though it had to hurt. Dutch knows exactly how much it aches watching your crush fall into someone else's arms, but it's so Mike to have not even hesitated.

“Well, yeah.” Mike chuckles once. “Chuck should be happy.”

“He's happy with you,” Dutch says quietly, and smiles. “It's real cute, the way he relaxes around you sometimes.”

Mike grins. “Chuck is pretty cute.”

Dutch lets out a breath, feeling his smile pull sideways. “Yeah, he really is.”

Mike raises his head as Dutch realizes he maybe should have watched his tone more, and stares at Dutch. His face lights up. “You like Chuck?!”

“Uh.” Dutch blinks. He wasn't expecting Mike to be _jealous_ , exactly, or try to fend him off, but a wry smile and a sympathetic shoulder pat would make more sense than thrilled enthusiasm. “Yeah?”

“That's awesome!” Mike says, and kisses him hard. Dutch moans into it, hands on Mike's back, stroking distractedly and he wants so much to touch him all over, but he doesn't know what he's allowed yet.

Finally Mike pulls away, fingers tracing Dutch’s collarbones. “Everyone should like Chuck,” he says with satisfaction.

“Gets kinda sad if Chuck doesn't like everyone back,” Dutch points out.

Mike gets a puzzled, startled look like the possibility hadn't even occurred to him, then shakes it off and grins. “Nah,” he says, sliding a hand up Dutch’s neck. “Pretty sure this’ll work out.”

Well of course he is, Mike is pretty much incapable of _not_ being optimistic, and Dutch is about to say something along those lines when Mike's fingers brush his earlobe and he gasps. “Whoa.”

Mike pauses. “Hmm?”

“Heh, you start playing with those, I'm gonna want my pants off real quick.”

Mike licks his lips. “So, is that a warning, or more of an invitation?”

“God, I don't know, whatever you want!” Dutch takes a second to get hold of himself. “I--I really wanna take the time to do this right, but you're so hot, and I want you so bad--”

“‘kay,” Mike says abruptly, getting off his lap. “Let's do this, man, I want you too, okay? So get your pants off and we can go for it!”

Dutch gives a breathless laugh and scrambles up to get naked. When he climbs on the bed again, Mike gets back in his lap and they both gasp as their dicks rub together. Then they're kissing again as Mike's hands run over Dutch’s chest, fingers rubbing at his nipples curiously. He makes a hesitating sort of noise into Mike's mouth and Mike hums back and moves on, stroking along his shoulders and down his arms. (It's not that Dutch _can't_ enjoy somebody playing with those, it's just that they take so long to get sensitized he feels kind of sheepish about it.)

Dutch takes the opportunity to touch Mike, stroking all the way down his back this time to cup his hands around the top of Mike's narrow butt. Mike makes a low appreciative noise and presses back into his hold and Dutch groans. It feels like everything is throbbing with heat, down to his bones.

Mike pulls away from the kiss, breathing hard, and gives him a sharp grin. Then his hands slide up Dutch’s neck to his earlobes and gently stroke them. Dutch catches his breath and shudders, hips twitching.

“Let's do this,” Mike breathes, and Dutch nods without hesitation. Hell yes they should do this _right now_.

Mike leans over to grab the bottle and pour some into his hand. Dutch does his best not to buck Mike off the bed when a wet palm wraps around him and slicks him up. (He's a little surprised Mike doesn't have a condom for him, but then, there's not exactly a pregnancy risk like with Tennie, is there.) Then Mike gets up on his knees, one hand on Dutch’s dick, the other on his chest, and he sinks down on Dutch with a moan that has almost as powerful an effect as the feeling of being in him. Dutch’s eyes roll back and everything else goes out of his head.

Mike pushes up as soon as he's on all the way, slides down again, and Dutch catches his shoulders before he can do it again. “Hang on a sec,” Dutch pants.

Mike blinks at him, hips rocking once restlessly, and Dutch grunts. “ _Nnh--_ I said hang on!”

Looking abashed, Mike holds still, biting his lip in concentration. “S-sorry.”

Dutch strokes his shoulder. “‘S okay. Just, not everybody’s got wer stamina, you know. You want me to last any time at all, you gotta gimme a sec here.” He takes a few breaths and nods. “Okay. Go for-- _aah--_ ”

Mike goes for it. Eyelids fluttering, neck arching, he starts lifting up on his knees and dropping, riding Dutch fast and breathless with his mouth open, hands hard on Dutch’s thighs under him. Dutch groans, hands sliding restlessly over Mike's folded legs and up his sides. Everywhere he touches, muscle flexes under his hands, rolling and bunching and shifting under his skin. Mike is so gorgeous, god--Dutch tries to memorize the lines of him, the angles and how the light falls across his body, even if he shouldn't actually paint this, but he wants to, wants to splash Mike all over a wall somewhere, he was made to be art. Dutch’s hands on his skin make for a nice contrast, too, cool deeper brown against dark gold. (Chuck’s pink and ivory would be a good addition to the combination--no, don't think about that, not the time.)

“God, Dutch,” Mike groans, and his eyes open long enough to give Dutch a pleased, hazy look, “you feel amazing.”

Dutch shudders up into him, those wide yellow eyes sending little shocks through his system before they close again. “You too,” he manages, hands settling on Mike’s hips. “You just--you're so gorgeous, man, I wish I could paint you on a bridge somewhere.”

Mike's rhythm stutters as he laughs, startled, and slows down, laughing harder until he's hanging off Dutch’s shoulders. “Like this?” he gets out finally, and Dutch sputters.

“Well, I mean, no,” he allows, grinning, “though I bet there's a lot of people who'd appreciate it if I did.”

“Ahahahaahhh.” Mike sighs and shakes his head, grinning back, and starts to move again. “ _Mmm_ \--bet Chuck’d make you go back and paint clothes on me.”

Dutch groans breathlessly and tries to keep up the joking, although it requires focus he's rapidly losing. _God_ Mike feels so _good_ around him-- “But what about, uh, my artistic integrity!”

Mike laughs again. “Yeah, _ah_ , too bad about that.”

Dutch chuckles and runs his hands over Mike again, winning a pleased hum in response. He wants to find the good spots, so he touches as much as he can reach and lingers anywhere that gets a good reaction. Mike's inner thighs get a soft sound, his ears and neck get a contented sigh, (although honestly touching him at all gets good sounds, so clearly those aren't hot spots), and when he combs fingers through Mike’s hair Mike makes a husky noise. The look he's giving Dutch goes half-lidded and--different, somehow. Almost shy, which is unexpected when they're already in the middle of sex. 

Dutch does it again and Mike's head tilts forward, guiding his hand to the back of Mike's head. His fingers run through Mike's hair and across the back of his neck and Mike shivers. Dutch hums at that, slides his fingers back up Mike's neck and into his hair again.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs, and shoots him that shy, sideways look again. “You could, uh, pull, if you wanted.”

Dutch’s mouth opens in surprise before he tightens his fingers around a handful of hair and tugs gently. Mike's eyes close.

“ _Hh--_ harder.”

Dutch pulls steadily until Mike's neck is curved back hard and he's making little hitching moans, arched backwards in Dutch’s lap and still moving on him fast and sure. God, he really likes that, okay, Dutch can pull his hair, no problem, he can definitely do that. After holding Mike there for a minute, he lets go, taking note of the muffled whimper of protest, and gets a grip on the side of his head instead, just above the ear. Mike's eyes widen and he just kind of relaxes into it, breathing hard. Dutch tugs him into a kiss and Mike moans when his grip doesn't let up.

“You okay?” he says when the kiss breaks. “‘M I hurtin’ you?”

“‘S good, don't stop,” Mike says immediately, sounding breathless, which--isn't anything like ‘no, of course not’, but is pretty clear. So. Mike likes a little bit of pain. Dutch tries to process that and not feel guilty for hurting him. He _likes_ it. Okay.

Dutch pulls him around by the hair, forward into kisses and back so Dutch can kiss and nip at his throat. Mike gasps softly when he uses his teeth and Dutch wonders if he likes that because of the wer biting thing or the pain thing. He'll ask later, maybe.

Mike's still moving easily, like kneeling and bouncing up and down for twenty minutes is no issue, because _darn wer_ , that's why. His breathing shakes, though, his eyes are hot and dazed and Dutch is pretty sure he's getting close, which is good, because so is Dutch.

There has to be something else he can try that Mike would like. Dutch runs his free hand down Mike's chest and Mike makes a quiet noise. Dutch rubs experimentally at a nipple and Mike's whole body goes taut, a whine catching in his throat. Startled, Dutch pauses a second; he thought that was more of a thing for girls, but even Tennie’s not that sensitive. Mike's eyes snap open, wide and desperate as he arches into Dutch’s touch.

“Please--please, yeah, keep, don't stop please I'm so--”

Oh _god._ Swallowing hard, Dutch strokes and tweaks and presses on Mike's nipples, still holding him by the hair with his other hand, and Mike goes _wild_. Clinging to Dutch’s shoulders, he moves up and down in fast jerks, whimpers and gasps pouring out of him as he writhes, broken pleas that make Dutch’s ears go hot.

“-- _Mmh_ , yeah, like--please, like that-- _ah--_ Dutch, god--please--”

Dutch’s hips snap up into him without permission, but the way Mike's eyes roll back in his head he doesn't mind. He grinds down against Dutch hard, once, twice, and comes.

It's hard to keep his hips still when Mike is shaking against him, and no easier when he sags forward into Dutch’s chest, panting, but Dutch can deal, he can wait to get off until Mike climbs off him--

“Nnh. Don't stop,” Mike mutters.

Dutch stares at him. He has no idea how this works for guys normally, if they don't get sore like a girl might, but then again normal probably has less to do with this than _wer_ and _in heat_ and _Mike_. Even if he is sore, he might _like_ that. “Okay,” Dutch rasps, and starts to push up into him. Mike moves with it like he's boneless, making soft appreciative sounds, and it takes a lot less time than Dutch expected before he comes, hard and sharp and breathless.

By the time he's pulled his brain back together, Mike has climbed off him and cleaned himself up. He hands Dutch a damp cloth, which Dutch uses to get unsticky. Dutch is prepared for an awkward moment, but Mike just leans up against him on the bed and sighs contentedly.

“God, that was so much better,” he mumbles.

Dutch blinks. “Than the last time?”

“Yeah. I mean, Rayon’s good, but he--uhhh, oh crap.” Biting his lip, Mike looks sideways at Dutch.

Dutch stares back. “You went to Rayon?”

Mike shrugs and nods, rubbing a hand over the back of his head. “There's a lot of guys in his gang, I figured it wouldn't be hard to find somebody to sleep with. Didn't realize _he'd_ be interested, but I mean…”

“He's good-lookin’, and a reasonable guy,” Dutch says, nodding. He's trying really hard to not be mad, because it's not cool to be possessive and jealous, it's gross, it's just that finding out where Mike went brings back up-- “You didn't think out of _four_ of us that one might wanna sleep with you?”

Mike locks his hands together behind his neck and hunches, eyes on his knees. “I didn't want to put that on you guys, and I didn't know what was going on and... I was scared. ‘M sorry,” he finishes quietly, and Dutch wants to slap himself.

“God, no, don't be sorry,” he groans, “I’ve got no right to get on your case about it, it's not like we own you--”

“No, you _do_ ,” Mike says, and Dutch cuts off short, staring at him.

“Sorry? We what?”

Mike bites his lip and hesitates, yellow eyes wide. Then he presses cautiously into Dutch’s side. “Uh--you guys _do_ have the right to be mad at me, I screwed up, I knew it half an hour into that, I just didn't know what else to do. I should’ve asked you guys. I just.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “The only person around here who _doesn't_ smell like want is Jacob, and I can never tell who any of it's for, and I was scared of making a mistake and messing everything up.”

Dutch is pretty sure at least some of that is wrong, but he doesn't know how to explain it, so he says the one thing he's sure of. “It's okay.” He wraps an arm around Mike's shoulders and Mike slumps against him in relief as Dutch tries to figure out how to untangle reality from the way he's--the way they're both--feeling.

“Man, I don't think we _do_ have a right to be mad at you. No, listen,” he says as Mike starts to protest, “if none of us did want you, because we were all complete idiots or something I guess, then it wouldn't have been a mistake to go somewhere else. Right? I mean, we wouldn't--nobody would be upset about it then. So… if you can only find out if somethin’s the right choice or not by makin’ it, it's not fair to get mad at you for that.”

“Yeah, but you're my pack. I should’ve asked you in the first place. It was dumb not to.”

“It wasn't dumb.” Dutch frowns at him. “You were scared. That's not dumb, and it's okay.”

Mike looks down. “I wanted you guys so bad,” he says. “It sucked. I mean, it was fine, Rayon was great about it, but it still sucked. And the Duke kept bein’ a jerk--”

Dutch’s jaw drops. “The _Duke_ was there?”

Mike's eyes widen and flick up to his. “Uh.” He swallows. “...Yeah.”

“Hell,” Dutch growls, tightening the arm around Mike, and puts his other hand on Mike's face. “Yeah, I'll _bet_ he was bein’ a jerk. Are you okay? Did he pull any nasty tricks?”

“No, he--I mean, I'm fine,” Mike says, nuzzling into Dutch’s hand gratefully. “He tried some stuff, but uh. I mentioned I was kinda losing it? So, uh, I threw him around some.” His shoulders hunch. “Good thing Rayon was there, I could've hurt him really bad.”

“Good,” Dutch snaps, “serve the dickhead right!”

Mike flinches, and not just at the language. “I didn't mean to mention him, I know you guys don't like him--”

“Uh, the same way you don't, you mean?” Dutch pulls his hands away from Mike to wave them emphatically. “He _sold you to Kane_ , man, I think we're _all_ holdin’ a grudge! I mean, heck, I'm surprised you could let him touch you!” He tries hard not to let his disgust at the idea into his voice, but some of it apparently gets through anyway.

“I didn't say it was easy,” Mike says low, pulling into himself. It takes a moment to get through the anger and then Dutch feels like crap, because for crying out loud Mike's in _heat_ , he was _desperate_ , and the Duke was probably drooling at the chance, so Mike would've known for sure he was willing. Of course he let the guy touch him; the Duke’s a bastard but Mike wasn't in any kind of place to be picky. It's okay to be mad at the Duke, but Dutch can't let that spill over onto Mike like it's trying to.

He reins his anger in tight, puts both arms around Mike and pulls him close. “Sorry, man, I didn't mean that how it sounded,” he murmurs. “I'm sorry. That must've been really rough.”

“It sucked,” Mike mumbles against his shoulder. “Please don't be mad.”

God, it's weird to have him so anxious about the whole thing, so cautious of Dutch’s mood. Of course, it's also weird to be trying not to be mad at him. Dutch gets mad at Texas often enough, but the worst he’s ever felt toward Mike is exasperation.

“I'm not. Well, I am, I'm pissed at _him_ , because trust that _jackass_ to take advantage of a situation like that, but it wasn't your fault,” he reminds himself as much as Mike. “I'm not mad at you.”

Mike’s arms cautiously slip around Dutch, testing the waters, and when Dutch squeezes reassuringly Mike hugs back hard. “‘M still sorry.”

Dutch can practically see his tail tucked between his legs and he doesn't even _have_ one right now. “Don't be,” he says, stroking Mike's back. “You did what you had to to be okay. I'm just sorry you had to deal with that asshole.”

Mike makes a noise in the back of his throat and slants him a look. “Dutch.”

“Okay, fine, that two-faced, lyin’, scheming, selfish jerk. There, better?”

Mike shakes his head, but he's grinning. “Less swearing, anyway,” he says, and kisses Dutch’s shoulder. Dutch smiles, relieved that he seems to be relaxed again. All the cringing and looking guilty was seriously unnerving.

Something’s niggling at Dutch, though. It takes a second to figure out what.

“Hang on, Rayon _and_ the Duke were there? So, like, one came in after the other one was gone, right?”

“Uh. No?”

Dutch’s mouth drops open. “Whoa,” he manages eventually. “You had a dang _threesome_ with those guys?”

Mike shrugs like he's bewildered this is even worth mentioning. “Yeah. Seems like they've got some kind of… thing going? Like they hate each other, but they sleep together, I dunno. Anyway, they were both there, so, yeah. I kinda thought one person wasn't gonna be enough,” he adds more quietly. “Turns out I was right, so.”

“You think one’ll be enough this time?” Dutch asks, briefly diverted by concern.

Mike tilts his head thoughtfully. “I don't know for sure, but I think so, yeah. It feels different this time.”

“Good.” Dutch doesn't really want to have to drag himself downstairs all worn out and tell Julie that she's up already because he wasn't enough. That would be seriously embarrassing, like not terminal but still _wow no thanks_.

Not gonna happen, stop chewing on it. Think about Mike just _casually_ having threesomes instead. “So wait, polyamory was a surprise, but gettin’ in bed with two people at once, that's just no big deal?”

Mike blinks at him, mouth a little open. “That's really different, though,” he objects. “I mean, that was a one-time thing, the thing we're trying is a lot more… long-term. Serious. And that was just about the sex, because I, cuz--”

“Because you're in heat and you needed it,” Dutch says firmly, stroking Mike's back.

Mike looks relieved, pushing into the touch. “Yeah. This is… a lot more than that,” he says softly, laying his hand on Dutch’s chest, right over his heart.

God. From anyone else that would be too much, over the top and corny. Coming from Mike, unselfconscious and utterly sincere, it's… breathtaking. Helpless, Dutch puts a hand on Mike’s cheek to tip his head up and kisses him. Mike returns it hungrily and that puts an end to the conversation for a while.

The next time Mike starts talking, it's to pant, “Tell me, tell me what you like,” which seems kinda ridiculous when Dutch is on his back with Mike riding him again, but he tries to cooperate.

“God. Everything. This,” he gasps, and Mike laughs breathlessly.

“C’mon, dude, you know what I mean,” he says, slowing down.

It's weirdly embarrassing to say, but Dutch deals with it, hands flexing on Mike's hips. Mike already told him about his hair-pulling thing, after all, it's only fair. “Use your nails,” he says after a minute. “Like, when you feel good, dig your nails into me.” God, that sounds so dumb.

“Yeah? Not to break the skin, right?” Mike holds up a hand, glancing at his short, blunt nails like he's checking their suitability for it.

Dutch raises an eyebrow. “Um, like you even need to worry about it with those.”

Mike grins down at him, sharp-toothed. “Well…” He turns the back of his hand to Dutch, whose eyes widen as those blunt nails slowly elongate into not-so-blunt wolfish claws. It’s kind of alarming to watch while having sex with the owner of said claws, but when he glances nervously back at Mike, no extra furriness or other changes are in evidence.

Mike catches the look, of course, and abruptly goes sheepish. “Sorry,” he says, claws rapidly slipping back into flat human nails.

“‘S okay. Dang, man, doesn't that take a heck of a lot of control?”

Mike shrugs, rocking lazily down on him. “I guess. You learn a lot of control, if you're wer. Well, in Deluxe. Everybody's scared of us. Gotta have control if you don't want people looking at you like you're a monster.”

Dutch remembers what he was taught about wer up there. Now that he's gotten to know Mike, it's obvious at least sixty percent of it was skewed and sensationalized in the first place, with a patronizing ‘they're almost as good as real people when they try’ slant on top of it. Then there were the blatant falsehoods on top of that, like about wer needing to constantly exert their self-control not to turn into slavering monsters. In reality, they just need self-control to stay looking human, so if a Deluxian wer (or Mike) ever relaxed completely they'd only get the yellow eyes and fangs of default wer form. Turning fully wolf takes a conscious effort; it's not the default and they're not mindless monsters and Kane’s propaganda is full of crap.

And now Dutch is getting mad, which is pointless, especially when hey, _having sex with Mike_ , pay attention when your daydreams come true. He drops the chain of thought and rubs his thumbs over Mike's hipbones in apology for his distraction. “God, you're so sexy.”

Mike blinks and huffs a laugh. “You too.” He pulls one of Dutch’s hands off his hip, lifts it to his mouth to kiss the knuckles. “I love your hands. Love watching you work, you're amazing, and your hands are so sexy, god.” His tongue flicks out, licks along one finger, and Dutch’s hips buck a little before he can control them. Mike and he moan at the same time.

“ _Ngh!_ Wha, I didn't even tell you about that one!” Dutch says, and Mike laughs again.

“Yeah? Nice.” He licks another finger, more thoroughly this time, and Dutch hums appreciation but controls his hips. Mike narrows his eyes. “Huh. Musta missed the on-button.”

Dutch snorts with amusement as he tries again, then almost chokes on air, hips jerking up as Mike abruptly sucks two fingers into his mouth--all the way in. Dutch has long fingers. “Holy crap-- _nnh!_ Mike! You're gonna-- _ahh--_ Be careful!”

Mike sucks and licks, apparently unperturbed by such human details as a gag reflex, and Dutch groans and pushes up into him faster. Mike moans, speeding up to match him.

It takes Dutch a minute to think of it, and then he puts his free hand to good use pulling Mike's hair. Mike moans and thrusts Dutch’s fingers deeper into his mouth in a rhythm to match the one they're setting together, and after an uncertain minute Dutch starts moving his hand himself. When he's got Mike by the hair, holding him steady to pump fingers into his mouth seems like a really dickish thing to do--except that Mike is moaning full-throated with it, leaning forward on Dutch’s chest with his arms shaking, whole body rocking as he moves up and down on Dutch.

When he comes a startlingly short time later, he rakes his nails down Dutch’s ribs like it's a natural instinct. Dutch doesn't take long to follow him.

Mike flops down half on top of him once they're both cleaned up, and they cuddle for a while. (Dutch really likes sex, okay, he's definitely not complaining about that, but he _loves_ cuddling afterwards. Having someone he really likes nestling into him, holding them warm and close in that blissful floaty place--it's good. Cuddling with Mike is awesome.)

“You're so great,” Mike sighs after a while. He's stroking Dutch’s upper arm absently, back and forth. It's nice, soothing. Dutch is rubbing Mike's back, and hopes it feels as good. “I never thought you'd be interested, but geez, you're so--smart and creative and cool, and good with your hands, and just--god, this is awesome. You're awesome.”

“You're pretty awesome yourself,” Dutch says softly.

“Yeah, but… We're just lucky to have you around.”

“Okay, first of all, you have no idea how lucky we all are to even know you,” Dutch points out, “and second, I'm not here thanks to _luck_ , Mike. If you hadn't found me and invited me into the Burners, I might not have lasted down here. I was totally lost, didn't know where to get food or how to find a place to stay--heck, if you hadn't stepped in I'm pretty sure I would've gotten myself in hot water real fast.”

“Nah, you would've figured stuff out,” Mike says.

“Not so sure. But I didn't have to, because like two days after I got here, there you were like ‘Hey, want a place to stay?’ ‘Want some lunch?’ ‘Wanna hang out with me and my friends and drive awesome cars?’”

“‘Wanna rebuild our cars and customize them constantly and do incredible paint jobs on them for, like, friendship and a smile?’” Mike mutters.

“Man, I wouldn't do it if I didn't love it,” Dutch tells him, grinning.

“Yeah. I know. ‘S why we're so lucky,” Mike says, and leans up to kiss him. This time it stays sweet and calm instead of revving things up again.

“Seriously,” Dutch says when Mike puts his head back down on Dutch’s chest, “if the Burners are lucky to have anyone, it's you. You're a pretty amazin’ guy, you know?”

Mike looks up at him and swallows. “You do have me.”

Dutch can't quite tell if it's meant as reassurance or what, but Mike seems oddly nervous, so Dutch pats him and smiles. “Yeah, man, I know. Good thing, too.”

Mike is silent a moment, then takes a breath and says, “You know what you said about not owning me?”

Dutch frowns, not much liking that beginning. “Yeah?”

“You--it's kinda like you guys do. Not in a bad way,” he says hastily when Dutch goes stiff because _what, no!_ “Just, like… like what Chuck said about the biting thing? Belonging with, belonging to, it's not really that different, sort of.”

Mike said that before. He backpedaled when Dutch didn't react well, pretended he meant something else, and Dutch didn't catch it, so for Mike to bring it up again it must be important to him. Dutch thinks about it before he says anything, because _owning_ someone still sounds alarming to him, but it doesn't sound like Mike's unhappy about the idea at all. “You're not sayin’ that we control you,” he says cautiously. “Or that we make you do what we want.”

“No.”

“Okay.” He considers it. “I guess that's what pack means, huh?” Mike nods against his chest. “And it's a good feelin’?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “It's belonging. It's…” He raises his head again to look at Dutch, yellow eyes intent. “I'm yours,” he says softly.

And _oh._ When he puts it _that_ way. Dutch swallows, a sweet shiver running down his spine. “Okay,” he says, suddenly hoarse. “I get that bein’ a good thing.”

Mike grins and rubs his cheek against Dutch’s chest like a cat. “Good. Figured you should know.”

Dutch blows out a breath, digging fingers into the muscles of Mike's back to get little contented groaning noises out of him. He concentrates on the backrub for a while and lets that hot sweet feeling sit. _I'm yours_. He's still pretty sure it's screwed up to like the idea that much, Mike sorta belonging _to_ as well as _with_ the Burners, but he does like it, and Mike obviously does too, so. Maybe it's okay? It feels good. Like they've got a claim on him.

“Mmm. You smell like me,” Mike mumbles, and Dutch is startled into laughter.

“Man,” he says, grinning, “I know you're always wer, but you are so wer right now.”

“‘m in heat. ‘S pretty wer, yeah.”

Dutch squints, trying to think what puzzled him about that a minute ago. “Huh. Yeah. And I'm pack, but you haven't wanted me to bite you yet.”

Mike's quiet a minute. “...Huh. ‘S true. Or, well, guess I still _want_ you to bite me, but… I haven't needed it yet.”

“Wonder why,” Dutch says thoughtfully.

“Dunno. Maybe because I already know you're pack? Or maybe Rayon was right and the first time is the worst, so I don't need it as bad now.” He pauses. “Definitely feel less crazy for the sex, so maybe it's the same for the bite.”

Dutch smiles. “Crazy, huh? Man, if this is you not crazy for it, that must've been something to see. Wish I'd been there.”

Mike rubs his cheek against Dutch’s chest again. “Yeah, me too,” he mutters, and Dutch tightens his arms around him. Mike hugs back and sighs contentedly. And then takes a careful breath and makes a disgruntled noise.

“You all right, man?” Dutch says.

“ _Rrgh_ , yeah, fine. Just startin’ up again.” Mike gives him a rueful look. “I guess it's funny, because if I was just, you know, doing this with you for fun I'm pretty sure I wouldn't even think about it, I'd just be having a great time, but… I can't actually control this, so I feel guilty. Like I'm bein’ demanding.”

Dutch snorts. “You're not bein’ demanding, heat’s making demands of _you_. Don't sweat it. Besides, it's not like I'm not enjoyin’ myself.”

“Good, because I think we're gonna be here for a while.” He pauses. “Don't, uh, take this the wrong way, but how many times can you come before you're done?”

That's a good point, unfortunately. Dutch considers himself and comes to a dismaying conclusion. “I might have two more in me, but it'd be a stretch, sorry, man. ...I'm bettin’ you're gonna need more than that, huh.”

Mike blows out a breath. “No way to know, but. Probably, yeah.” He sits up reluctantly, runs a hand through his hair. “Shouldn't be a problem, there's other stuff we can do.” He gives Dutch a thoughtful look. “You wanna save your next go a while, try something else?”

Dutch shrugs, leaning up on his elbows. “Sure. Like what?”

“Well, we can see if a toy works when someone else is using it on me, or you can use your fingers, or I guess you could suck on me, if you want.” Mike pauses while Dutch tries to get used to the way he just _says_ stuff like that, no embarrassment at all. “Uh. Have you done that before? All I know about is Tennie, so…”

“Yeah, she's been it ‘til now, I've got no experience with guys. So, no.” Dutch considers sucking on Mike and--the idea is okay? He's a little curious what it tastes like, and doing that'd probably be fine, but he's a lot better with his hands than his mouth. “When you said use my fingers, you meant--in you?” Mike nods. Dutch can't help eyeing him. “Wow. You really like it that way, huh. Don't you get sore?”

Mike grins and shrugs. “Not bad enough to care. ‘Sides, I like bein’ sore. It never sticks around for long anyway because, you know, healing factor.”

“Can I ask,” Dutch says cautiously, because he's not sure what the etiquette is here, “when--how you figured out you liked that?”

Mike shifts restlessly, stretches his neck. “Yeah, dude, no problem, but can we get going while we're talking?”

Dutch has to grin. He knows it's the heat making Mike eager, but he's just so damn cute like this. “Sure. Okay, show me how to use my fingers right.”

Mike shows him, and it's easier than Dutch’s first time with Tennie, that's for sure. There's one place to press or rub over inside, easy enough to find, and no particular trick to the movement needed, no twist or gentle-yet-quick pressure.

Dutch has fun going fast and then slow, light and then harder, testing the effects on Mike, who makes protesting noises and moans and gasps. He's on elbows and knees this time, fingers digging into the bedspread, back flushed and shuddering, and doing it this way definitely isn't _more_ fun than being in him, but Dutch is enjoying it an awful lot.

“So,” he says after a few minutes, “you gonna tell me how you figured out you liked this?”

“ _Nh--_ ah, yeah, sure,” Mike pants. “Not that interesting, pretty sure, but. In the barracks, I was--trading handjobs with another cadet-- _nnh--_ and. And he wanted my fingers in him. And I thought it was weird but-- _ahh_ \-- _hh_ he really liked it. So I got curious. And then when he did it fff-- _ah_ f-for me, it kinda blew my mind. So. That's how.”

Sex shenanigans in the barracks. Sure, _that_ isn't interesting at _all_. Dutch pulls his eyebrows out of his hair and strokes his free hand down Mike's back so he sighs contentedly. “Huh. Okay, then.”

Dutch is quiet for a while, watching the way Mike twists and rocks back against his hand and claws at the bed. When Mike starts shaking, back gleaming with sweat, Dutch slows down briefly. “Should I make it last longer?”

Mike whimpers. “No, please, I'm so--’s no point, I'll just--’f you're enjoyin’ it that much, c’n just keep going, be ready again soo-- _ah!_ ”

Dutch speeds up again, reaching under Mike to rub his nipples and stroke his dick, and Mike groans breathlessly and quivers and comes. This time Dutch fetches a cloth to clean up while Mike flops down on his side, panting.

After a minute he opens his eyes and says, “You didn't keep going.”

“Well, I mean,” Dutch says, abashed, “seems kinda mean. I know you won't get _hurt_ , but that doesn't mean it's _fun_ to be, y’know, uh. Stimulated like that when you're not ready for it yet. Could get to be too much.”

Mike shakes his head. “Maybe a little, normally, but not like this. Rayon had me the first time, and he just kept going after I came--I told him to,” Mike adds as Dutch’s brows pull down. “And it didn't hurt at all. So, uh, if you were having fun--”

Dutch grins and ducks his head. “I was, but, uh. I like seein’ your face,” he admits.

“Oh! No problem,” Mike says, rolling over on his back. He bends his knees and pulls his feet up, set wide on the bed, totally unselfconscious about displaying himself however Dutch wants. “That better?”

“Yeah,” Dutch says huskily, and slides his fingers back into Mike.

Mike was serious about not minding the extra attention. He sighs and hums happily and his hips start moving into it a lot sooner than Dutch would've guessed. Dutch makes him come twice more like that before his arm gets tired.

The second time, Mike is gasping and tossing his head, hips bucking eagerly as he gets close, when suddenly he groans aloud and turns wild eyes on Dutch. “Now I need it. The bite. Can you--?”

“Not with you lyin’ on your back,” Dutch points out, and blinks as Mike practically levitates onto his knees. Dutch pulls his hand away and Mike twists around and drops his head to bare the back of his neck, making an urgent whining noise in his throat. Dutch can't bite him and finger him properly at the same time, his wrist doesn't bend like that, but Mike seems pretty clear getting bit is most important right now, so figure out the rest in a minute.

Dutch leans in, brushes brown hair away and closes his teeth firmly on the back of Mike's neck. “ _Ah_ \--h-harder,” Mike says in a shaky voice. Dutch clamps down harder, reminding himself he doesn't need to worry about hurting him because wer, and Mike goes stiff and quivering all over.

“ _Oh god_ ,” he says, sounding choked, and comes. And _comes_ , longer than Dutch has seen before, it just keeps going. Dutch unclamps his teeth and lets go after ten seconds or so, chest still pressed against Mike's back and one arm wrapped around him. When Mike finally finishes he slumps forward onto his hands, trembling muscles giving out. Dutch strokes his back and Mike flops over on his side and then his back to look up at him, eyes wider than they should be.

“Dutch,” he says shakily, reaching for him, and Dutch goes right away, lets Mike pull him down on top of him. Mike's fingers dig into Dutch’s back. He's clinging, shaking, his breathing ragged, and when Dutch pulls back enough to see his face, his cheeks are damp.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dutch says in concern, then pauses for an embarrassed second. The endearment came automatically, given the situation, but he's not sure Mike likes that and he's not sure it's appropriate anyway, Mike shouldn't share that with Tennie, he needs his own--figure it out _later_. “You okay? Little bit intense?”

“Yeah,” Mike says in a low voice after a minute. His fingers clutch and relax, clutch and relax on Dutch. “Intense. And. You're _here_.” Wet yellow eyes open and stare into Dutch’s at close range. “It's not--I don't have to--” His mouth opens and closes, forming the beginnings of words and cutting them off in frustration.

Dutch has the feeling he knows what Mike means anyway. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “I'm here. I got you. _We_ got you, and we're not goin’ anywhere.”

Mike's next breath shudders, and when he blinks two tears slide from the corners of his eyes. Dutch leans down the few inches to kiss him and Mike sighs into it.

They lie there quietly for a while. Mike stops shivering and goes limp, arms draped over Dutch in a much more relaxed way. Dutch wipes the moisture off Mike's face with his clean hand.

Eventually he moves enough to lean over the side of the bed and grab another cloth to clean up. “Man, you are gonna have so much laundry to do,” he sighs, wiping off his fingers and scrubbing at the wet spot on the bed.

“What's laundry,” Mike mumbles. “Sounds like a Jacob thing.”

Dutch snorts with laughter. “Dude. You can't make Jacob wash your stuff, it's all, like, covered in sex! That's just _wrong_ , man.”

Mike snickers. “Yeah, I know. I was joking. Mostly.”

“You better be, or I won't be able to look him in the eye!”

Mike grins. “Shut up and lay on me.”

Dutch rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes _sir_ ,” he says, and flops the rest of the way down on Mike.

“ _Oof_ , haha, don't, uh, don't call me that, okay?” When Dutch glances up, Mike is looking mildly uncomfortable.

Dutch knows he was a cadet, knows he regrets it now; Dutch should’ve thought. “Sorry, man.”

“Don't worry about it, it's just. You guys follow me because you're my friends and you think I'm a good leader, not because anybody says you have to. I know if I have a bad idea, you guys will argue with me instead of just going along with it. It's a lot harder to abuse that kind of authority. I like it a lot better.”

On the one hand, he’s mostly right. On the other, Dutch is pretty sure Mike has no idea how powerful his charisma is. He gets away with a heck of a lot more than anyone would who _wasn't_ Mike Chilton. Probably not something Dutch is going to mention just now. Not helpful.

Instead he says mildly, “Don't think you gotta worry about abusing your authority either way. One of the reasons we follow you is you're a good guy.”

Mike makes a dissatisfied noise. Dutch has no idea how to persuade him, so resorts to distraction and blows a raspberry on his chest. Mike sputters with laughter and retaliates by grabbing Dutch’s forearm and chewing on it, making growly noises that sound about as vicious as a puppy gnawing on a shoelace.

“Uh-oh,” Dutch says, as deadpan as he can manage. “Looks like I'm a goner now. The deadly wermutt’s got me.”

Mike almost chokes, eyes wide. He stops chewing to cough out a startled laugh. “I'm a what now?”

“A wermutt,” Dutch says blandly, since that doesn't look like offense. “Or is it just _mutt_ , because part human and part wolf leaves you kinda in the middle, like a dog?”

Mike's mouth is open, half-smiling and he keeps blinking. He looks like he thinks he ought to be offended, but he doesn't know how to get there from amused and--what is that, intrigued?

Dutch grins and ruffles his hair. “You're the cutest puppy,” he says, and Mike busts out laughing. Which is exactly the result Dutch was going for, and now he's completely forgotten the previous topic. Excellent, good work here.

When they settle down again, Dutch idly reviews pleasing mental images from the evening until he remembers something. “Hah. Hey, did you know you've got a mole on your spine, a few inches above your tailbone?”

“No?”

“Real dark, very flat, this little oval right in the _exact_ middle of your spine down there. It's like, perfectly symmetrical. Kinda crazy. Cool.”

“Huh,” Mike says, blinking. “I don't have one there when I look human. I wonder--? Hey, get off for a sec.”

Dutch shifts to one side and Mike rolls up onto his elbow so Dutch can see his back. “‘Kay, hang on,” Mike says, and a couple minutes later, “Is it still there?”

“Huh! It's way smaller and way lighter. Like a freckle or somethin’.” Dutch reaches out to brush a fingertip over it, then blinks. “Uh, now it's gettin’ bigger and darker again.”

Mike glances back over his shoulder, grinning as his eyes go from amber to yellow. “Yeah, cuz I'm letting go again. Hard to even get _close_ to human right now, sheesh. Okay, try touching it now.”

“Your mole?” Eyebrows up, Dutch puts his finger back on the dark spot. “Huh. It's a little oily. That doesn't seem--”

“Haha, I was right! It's not a mole, that's a… dang, what's it called. A scent gland! Normally it's on the back of my tail when I go wolf, but I guess in this shape that's where it ends up. Cool!”

“A scent gland? What the heck do you need that for?”

“To mark my stuff!” Mike says, trying for innocence and failing as his lips twitch. He scoots backwards and rubs his--okay, he's _trying_ to rub the base of his spine on Dutch’s side, but that's basically his butt. Mike is shimmying his butt down Dutch’s side and hip, and all Dutch can do is snicker helplessly.

When he's done scent-marking Dutch to his own satisfaction, Mike sprawls on Dutch’s chest, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “You realize I'm takin’ a shower after this, right?” Dutch says.

Mike attempts to pout. It doesn't work very well when he's struggling not to laugh. “You're gonna wash my scent off? That's mean, Dutch. Don't be mean.”

“What I'm gonna wash off is all this sweat and stickiness,” Dutch retorts. “If your smell comes off too, oh well.”

Mike's eyes glitter as he grins. “Guess I'll just have to mark you again.”

Dutch considers several possible responses, finally goes with, “You know your claim doesn't wash off, right? I mean, you can if you want, it's not like I can even smell it much, but I'm still gonna want to be with you whether I smell right or not.”

Mike puts his head down and rubs his face against Dutch’s chest. “Yeah,” he says softly, “I know.” He gives Dutch a sheepish look. “‘M just being silly anyway, it's not like you're really supposed to mark people. I don't think, anyway.”

“Goofball,” Dutch says, and pokes Mike in the ribs. Mike yelps and grabs for his wrist, Dutch evades him, and an impromptu wrestling match ensues. Dutch has longer arms and better leverage, Mike has wer strength and speed, which he seems to be trying not to use. Successfully, because Dutch wins after a struggle and pins him to the bed triumphantly.

Mike could throw him off pretty much effortlessly if he wanted, but he's laughing, face flushed, body relaxed under Dutch. Well, mostly relaxed. He's not fighting anymore, but there's a definite tension growing in his muscles, and a look in his eye that Dutch is getting to know really well.

“Time again, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mike says distractedly. He arches his neck, turning his head to one side and the other. “Can you, like, bite me a little more?”

“Same place? Yeah, but you'll have to--”

Mike is shaking his head. And blushing, like he hasn't over all the stuff they've done so far. “No, like.” He lifts his chin, showing Dutch his throat. “On the front. Just, y’know, nips and stuff.”

Given the blush, Dutch has the feeling that's significant, just like the back of the neck thing is. He's not sure what it means, but he can find out later. “You want me to leave marks, put hickies all over you?” he offers.

Mike's breath catches. “ _God_ yeah,” he says, “they won't last, but _yeah_.”

Dutch does. He holds Mike down and bites and sucks at Mike's throat, leaves dark flushed marks scattered all up and down both sides and across the front. He'd be reluctant to do it if they wouldn't disappear so quick. He'd feel like he had to leave space for the other Burners’ marks, not fill it all himself. If Mike is a canvas, there's only one color of paint and everybody has to share it.

By the time he's done, Mike is panting, hips shifting restlessly. He reaches for a kiss as Dutch starts to pull back, and Dutch moans into it, startled all over again by Mike's intensity. He's wide-eyed and breathing hard, feeling pretty ready himself when Mike lets him go.

“I want you in me,” Mike gasps. “Can you--is that--”

“Yeah, heck yeah,” Dutch says in a hurry. “How--like this?”

“Yeah, come on--dude, I'm slick enough, just--” He folds his legs and curls his hips up, and Dutch drops the hand that was reaching for the lube and grabs Mike instead, holds him still and pushes carefully in. Mike wraps his legs around Dutch, trying to pull him faster.

It takes a bit more work than it did before and Dutch makes a grumbling noise. “Man, I know you're eager and hardy and stuff, but I'm not wer and you are _not_ slick enough. You just chill, I'm gonna make sure the friction doesn't kill me.” He pulls out to put on more lube and Mike sighs but doesn't complain. The next slide in is much smoother.

Dutch starts to move, watching Mike to see when he's found the right speed and rhythm and all. He hasn't actually been doing this with Tennie for that long and it kind of takes a lot of concentration still, controlling his hips to make sure it's good for more than just him. God, it's worth it for the look on Mike's face, though, and the way he moans when Dutch finds the right angle and stays there.

“Yeah,” Mike gasps, “ _ah_ \--you can go harder, don't hafta-- _nnh!_ ”

“Like that?” Dutch says, and drives into him again. Mike's head snaps back against the bed and his mouth drops open.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he breathes.

“Take that as a yes,” Dutch pants, grinning, and keeps going like that.

Dutch can't tell if things actually go faster this time, or if he loses track and it just seems that way. Mike makes sharp, eager noises and his hips roll up against Dutch’s, he twists and bucks and his nails rake down Dutch’s back, which makes Dutch groan and shudder into him. Dutch plays with Mike's nipples and pulls his hair and Mike tugs him down into a kiss that's so fierce and hot it makes him dizzy.

When Mike finally comes, Dutch is clinging to control by his fingernails, and it takes a minute to realize he can let go now. He comes so hard he might pass out briefly.

Then they both just lie still and breathe for a while.

Eventually Mike sighs contentedly and stretches, still half under Dutch and apparently unbothered by this. Fortunately, since Dutch has been telling himself he needs to move and stop crushing Mike for about ten minutes now.

“God that was good,” Mike says.

“ _Mngh_ ,” Dutch agrees.

Mike laughs, patting his shoulder. “Weren't you talkin’ about getting a shower?”

“ _Mmf_ ,” Dutch says.

Mike chuckles again and puts an arm around him. “Fine by me,” he says quietly. “Not like I'm gonna kick you out of bed.”

Dutch tightens the arm he has over Mike in response. He knows he's gotta go get clean, but along with a reluctance to drag himself out of this sleepy, blissful daze, he doesn't really want to leave Mike. For one thing, he doesn't have a good excuse to come back instead of going off to his own empty bed.

“Thanks for this,” Mike says, even more softly, and Dutch frowns because you don't _thank_ someone for sex, that's something two people share, not a favor one does the other. “I know it's kind of a lot, but you were real patient. It was really nice. I didn't want--I wouldn't have done it like this if we'd had a choice, but you were really good about dealing with it, and--”

“Nope,” Dutch says firmly. “You can stop right there. You're feelin’ guilty about bein’ in heat again, and you gotta cut that out.” He leans up on one elbow to purse his lips at Mike. “Seriously, man, I wasn't _good about dealin_ ’ with this and I wasn't bein’ patient, I was enjoyin’ the heck out of it! Can you get your head around that?”

Mike nibbles on his lip with teeth that are significantly flatter than they were, and watches Dutch without answering as his eyes darken to deep amber. Looks like this round of heat really is over, for the wer to be fading back enough that Mike can control it again.

Dutch kisses his collarbone. “Spendin’ a couple hours makin’ you come was about the best use of my time I can think of,” he says, quirking a smile that Mike doesn't quite return. “And I'm kinda lookin’ forward to doin’ it again. Assumin’ you're, uh, okay with that.”

“I just,” Mike says, “I wish you'd had more of a choice.”

Dutch is wordless for a moment, and then his voice comes back in a rush of indignation. “Mike, what the hell? I _had_ a choice, you _gave_ me a choice, remember? I picked this! Don't you _dare_ go thinkin’ you pushed me into it! Did you forget the stuff I said before dinner? Lyin’ to you about bein’ willing would be a hell of a thing to do to you!”

Mike's eyes are wide at his vehemence, but he still looks conflicted. Dutch can't guess what's got him tied in knots about something that's so obviously not an issue.

So he asks. “What's goin’ on? Why are you even thinkin’ that?”

Mike licks his lips. “Did you really feel like you had a choice, or did you just want to help me?”

Dutch’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Are you serious. You're askin’ me if I agreed to sleep with you _without wantin’ to_ because you're in--”

“Not without wanting to,” Mike says quickly. “I know you wanted to, I--I got that.” He smiles a little, then sobers. “No, it's just--the timing. You kind of had to agree to this, cuz if you or Julie had wanted to move more slowly, I would've had to figure something else out. I don't like--maybe _I_ didn't push you, but you got pushed either way.”

“Except I didn't get pushed at all,” Dutch says, thoroughly exasperated, “because I didn't need pushing! Man, you're hot as hell, but _god_ you're a dumbass! Just cuz you're crazy enough to sacrifice your own comfort for someone else's doesn't mean we all are! All right? Have some dang trust, would you?”

Mike breathes in slow, breathes out, eyes dark brown by now and intent on Dutch’s face. “Yeah?”

Dutch leans down until their noses almost touch. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I'm a Burner, remember? You're not the only one who likes to go fast.”

Mike's eyes widen and he laughs. “All right,” he says, smiling. “All right. I just really don't want anyone to feel like they _have_ to do anything, you know?”

Dutch wonders if that's got any connection with not wanting to be called _sir_ , the worry over abusing his authority. “Yeah, I know. You told us, remember? And I'm pretty sure everybody else heard you loud and clear, just like I did. So stop flippin’ out and assumin’ we'd just let your heat push us around.”

Mike lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes. “Okay. I'll… work on that.” His arms slide around Dutch’s back and pull tight. “Thanks,” he says again, and this time Dutch doesn't mind.

“No problem,” he says, fumbling for an endearment that works for Mike, that he might like, that sounds right. Apparently it's not just gonna come off the top of his head, though. He'll have to think about it. “Man,” he groans, “I don't wanna move, but I've gotta get clean. Sorry.”

“Nah, go for it,” Mike says, without moving. Then he opens his eyes. “Uh. Are you--you're coming back, right?”

“You want me to?”

“You don't have to--”

“Nope, answer the darn question, man! I already said I'm not gonna be pushed around by what anybody else wants, all right? So just tell me what you want, and I'll tell you if I want somethin’ else. Trust, remember?”

“Right. Yeah.” Mike opens his mouth and closes it twice before saying, “I'd really like it if you came back, and maybe, uh, stayed here tonight.”

Dutch smiles, leans down and kisses him, sweet and short. “I'd love to. My bed was lookin’ real darn cold and lonely from here.”

Mike lights up like he honestly wasn't expecting that answer, because geez, he's a great guy but sometimes he is seriously not that bright.

“Awesome,” he says happily.


	4. The importance of having a mate

Dutch isn't deeply asleep to start with, and he wakes when Mike shifts restlessly one too many times. He reaches out and pats clumsily at Mike’s chest, rolls over to snuggle up against him and Mike catches his breath.

“Mh. Sorry, I was trying not to wake you,” Mike says quietly. He sounds strained.

Dutch gets his eyes open, not that it's much help in the dark. “You okay, man?”

Mike lets out a slow breath. “...Yeah. Guess I'm getting up now. You go on back to sleep.”

Dutch may be half asleep, but it doesn't take a genius to figure this out. “‘S startin’ again? Wh’ time ‘s it?”

Mike pauses before answering, but he doesn't try to deny it. “Little before three.”

That's… wow, it is _way_ earlier than the heat should be picking up again. Dutch sits up, rubbing his face to wake up. He is definitely gonna want more sleep before any more sex happens, and Julie’s turn was next anyway. “You stay put. You're gonna be more comfortable in your own room, right? Lemme go get Julie, I'll go sleep in my own bed, all right?”

“You don't hafta--”

“Mike! I _know_.” Dutch frowns at the dim shape of Mike beside him, slightly curled into itself. “You're feelin’ guilty again, aren't you.”

He hears the catch in Mike's throat as he swallows. “Tell me again I'm not pushing you guys into this.”

“You're not,” Dutch says immediately, reaching out to find him in the dark to stroke the middle of his chest soothingly. “We're doin’ this cuz we want to, cuz you're great and we really like you and we wanna date you and have sex with you and… all this stuff. All right?”

He listens to Mike breathe for a bit, a little too deep, a little too fast. “Yeah,” Mike says eventually. “All right.”

Dutch rolls his neck, pushes his shoulders forward and back, stretching things out while he thinks. “I know this has gotta be rough for you, bein’ out of control, bein’ forced to ask for help--”

“No, that's not it,” Mike says, sitting up and catching Dutch’s elbow unerringly, the dark no issue to wer senses. “I mean, okay, not being able to control myself sucks, but I don't mind asking you guys for help. We're a team, that's part of the deal. It's--it just feels way too close to forcing you guys into having sex with me. I _know_ it's not, you're okay with it. It just, it's too close. It kinda freaks me out.”

“Yeah, guess I can understand that,” Dutch says, and leans into Mike, getting an arm around his shoulders. “I wonder if you're feelin’ that way partly because _you_ don't have a choice. Part of you thinks we must feel the same way.”

“...Huh,” Mike says.

“You just hafta keep remindin’ yourself that we're not in heat, we have a choice, and if we decide to sleep with you it's cuz we want to. Nobody's gonna push themselves into doin’ anything they don't want, all right?”

“I hope you're right,” Mike says.

Dutch keeps his sigh silent, because okay, now he knows exactly what Mike's thinking about, and he really wishes he could say Mike's concerns are groundless. “You're worried about Chuck, aren't you.”

“You were the one who said he'd do anything for me,” Mike says in a low voice. “He's scared a lot of the time, I'm _used_ to it, you know? I don't know if I can tell the difference between the good kind of scared and the other kind. And I don't know for sure if he'd tell me, and I don't know what I'd do if I hurt him.”

“Yeah,” Dutch says. “I hear you.” He rubs a knuckle over his lips. “We don't have to worry about it right now, though. Let's get you through the night first.” He gives Mike a one-armed hug and climbs over him to get out of bed. Mike gets up too, crossing the room to turn on the lamp on his desk. Dutch blinks in the sudden light and fumbles his clothes on, not bothering with his shoes.

Mike perches on the edge of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring his hard-on, which is flushed dark enough to make Dutch wonder how long he was lying there refusing to touch himself before Dutch woke up. His face is tight, yellow eyes distant.

Dutch steps over and kisses him gently, and when he straightens, Mike's expression is lighter, a little startled but pleased.

“That's better,” Dutch says. “Try to relax, man. Think about how much you're lookin’ forward to kissin’ Julie.”

Mike blinks and his lips pull into a bemused smile. Yeah, he was obviously forgetting about that part.

Dutch goes out, closing the door behind him, and fumbles his way down to his own room in the darkness to drop off his shoes. Then he goes to knock on Julie’s door.

She eventually sticks her head out, bangs a mess, hair hanging over her shoulder in a frizzy braid, eyes tired but sharp as ever. Dutch explains the situation and gives her a few tips while he's at it.

“--and pullin’ his hair. He likes that a _lot_.”

“Got it,” she says with a crisp nod, which is spoiled by a massive yawn that makes her blink. “Mm. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dutch says, and smiles goodnight as she nods and closes her door to get ready, cutting off the light from her room. Then he stands there in the dark hall, trying to decide what to do next.

He could wake up Texas, find out if he knows anything about the time spans between rounds of heat and why Mike's are so short.

Texas sleeps naked a lot. Dutch isn't sure if that's more of an argument for or against knocking on his door at this hour. Dutch’s thoughts on naked Texas change on an hourly basis sometimes, depending on how annoyed he is with the guy. Right now he's only a baseline level of annoyed, so it sounds okay.

But even so, whether or not Texas knows the answer, it's not vital enough information to wake him up at three AM to find out. That's a jerk thing to do, and Dutch prefers not to be a jerk unprovoked. Too bad, since he kinda wants to talk to someone right now.

...Chuck’s hours tend to be pretty irregular. This is late even for him, but maybe it's worth checking.

Dutch goes back upstairs, stepping carefully to avoid stubbing his bare toes in the dark. Sure enough, at the end of the hall there's a faint line of light under the door. Dutch knocks quietly and waits.

After a minute he's thinking Chuck must have fallen asleep before he could turn off the light, when footsteps come up the stairs and Julie flicks the hall light on. There's a small bag over her shoulder and her bangs are freshly combed, but she's still wearing the shorts and baggy shirt she came to the door in. She tilts her head at him.

“Trying your luck, two for one?” she says softly.

Dutch blinks at her, too sleepy to follow her line of thought. “Huh?”

She stops in front of Mike's door and smiles slightly. “Things worked out with Mike; I thought you might be going to ask Chuck.”

Dutch’s mouth drops open and he has no idea what to say. How the heck does she _know?_ Well, she's really smart and very observant and Dutch isn't much better at hiding things than Mike is. It probably wasn't hard, he realizes reluctantly.

“Uh. No,” he manages after a minute, keeping his voice equally low. “I was gonna update him if he was still awake, that's all.”

Julie nods and turns to knock on Mike's door. Dutch hears him answer, but also hears a rising grumble from behind Chuck’s door. Crap, Dutch didn't mean to wake him up. 

“Texas,” Chuck says, voice getting louder as he nears the door, “if this is you with another dream you have to tell someone about immediately, I'm going to--”

He opens the door just as Julie steps into Mike's room.

“Sorry, man,” Dutch says, as Chuck blinks from Mike's door closing to Dutch. His bangs are all over the place, Dutch can actually see his hazel eyes, which are bleary, bewildered and somewhat unnerved. He's in briefs and a t-shirt, looking particularly bony and long-limbed, and Dutch kind of wants to wrap him in a blanket and put him back to bed. Or possibly kiss his collarbone, which is framed by the stretched neck of his shirt.

Dutch might need more sleep before he can responsibly handle being around Chuck, especially half-dressed Chuck.

“Didn't mean to wake you up,” Dutch says, “it's not like there's an emergency or anything--”

“That _was_ Julie I heard,” Chuck says, cutting him off. “Julie just--oh my god, it started again. It's too fucking early, why the _hell_ \--” He ducks back into his room and rustles of clothing drift out.

“Hey, man, you don't have to get up,” Dutch protests. “It's taken care of, Julie’s got this, you can go back to bed--”

“Right, and in the morning, when it starts again just as soon?” Chuck says impatiently. “You and Julie are just going to handle this between you, every--let's see--five hours or whatever it is, while Texas and I watch, no problem? Yeah, _right_. Are you coming in or what?”

Dutch shuts his mouth, steps inside and nudges the door closed behind him. “Four,” he corrects after a moment. “It's a little over four hours since we finished. And it was about that when it started last time, maybe four and a half.”

Now in jeans, Chuck’s about to sit down at his desk, but goes still, staring at Dutch. “Four hours?” he says, voice sliding high. “Dutch, it's three in the morning and you started at _eight!_ You guys were at it for _three hours?_ ”

Charmed, Dutch watches the blush sweep over Chuck’s face. “Nah. Mike said this round started a while ago, I don't think we took much longer than two.”

Chuck makes a noise that's probably meant to be acknowledgement but sounds more like a whimper, and turns to sit down, facing away from Dutch. Three screens pop up at his fingertips.

“Right, um, anyway,” he mumbles, and rallies. “I just don't understand why his dormant period is so _short!_ I mean, six hours is possible, but that's the short end! Four is just--it doesn't make any sense.”

“Nothin’ about that on the forums?”

Chuck’s shoulders hunch. “Not… that I found so far. I haven't finished searching the forum threads yet. I had to get some sleep, my brain stopped working.”

Of course he took the question as a subtle criticism. Dutch sighs. “Don't feel bad about it, okay? You gotta sleep, you're still human no matter how many mods you've got. There's enough guilt goin’ around right now, don't you get in on it too.”

“What’ve _you_ got to feel guilty about?” Chuck mutters.

Dutch rolls his eyes, not that Chuck is looking. “I didn't say it was me.” He glances around the room at the shelves covered with clothes and programming manuals and ancient fantasy paperbacks, the corner of piled LARP gear, the lit lamp on the bedside table beside the tableau of tiny metal figurines. The only chair is the one Chuck is using, but his bed is right there. Dutch is perfectly capable of sitting on Chuck’s bed without thinking about pulling Chuck down into it and… doing things.

“You mind if I sit down?”

“No,” Chuck says, waving a hand at the bed without looking, “I have to ask you questions anyway--wait. What the heck is Mike feeling guilty about?”

Dutch slumps down on the rumpled covers and shrugs as Chuck frowns. “This whole mess. He's scared of pushin’ someone into somethin’ they're not ready for.”

“...Oh.” Chuck grimaces and turns back to scan the screen in front of him as text rolls by. Dutch watches his profile as Chuck says, “Yeah, well, _he's_ not the one doing the pushing.”

“Doesn't much matter if his friends are still getting pushed like that,” Dutch points out. “So I figure it's our job not to let ourselves be pushed.”

“Right,” Chuck says absently, and huffs, raking a hand through his hair. “I've got to be missing something! I just--I don't even know if I have enough information to ask the right questions yet, it's driving me crazy. His dormant periods are too short, his active periods are too long, and I've got no leads on either. You said you guys took two hours?”

“Uh, yeah, close to that.” Dutch makes a note to revisit the topic of not making sacrifices for someone who doesn't want them, but later.

Chuck is turning red again, eyes fixed firmly on his screen. “And, uh. Did. Do you know how.” Taking a breath, he spits out, “How many times he came?”

Dutch’s eyebrows go up because _okay_ , he wasn't expecting Chuck to go there. No reason not to answer, though, so Dutch does a mental count. “Six, I think?”

Chuck makes a soft, high-pitched noise and swallows. “Oh...kay. And how long--”

He stops short as a startled yelp comes through the wall, followed by a much fainter groan. Right. Mike and Julie are right next door, and apparently they've gotten down to business.

Wow, Dutch should’ve realized the walls up here would be just as thin as on his floor, but he somehow hadn't thought about how clearly sound would make it through to Chuck’s room. That's maybe a little awkward, especially if Chuck was in here last night. Except, no, they finished well before eleven, and Chuck doesn't usually go to bed until around midnight. Okay, no involuntary auditory voyeurism.

Unlike now. There's a low, muffled cry, and Chuck puts his face in his hands. Dutch wonders what Julie’s doing to get those noises out of Mike, then realizes he really shouldn't be thinking about that. Although if those sounds keep coming, it's going to be all but impossible not to.

Chuck’s neck is flushing. Dutch clears his throat and says, “You wanna move this discussion down to my room?”

“Yeah, let's do that,” Chuck says in a hurry, stumbling to his feet as his screens wink out.

Dutch leads the way, flicking the hall light off when they reach the stairs. As Dutch starts down in the dark, Chuck fumbles for the light over the stairs, muttering about people with night vision and kinesthetic memory. By the time they get settled in Dutch’s room, Dutch is grinning and Chuck is complaining about the number of bruises he picks up wandering around in the dark, Chuck’s spacial sense sucks, okay?

“You slam into things with all the lights _on_ , man, I've seen you,” Dutch says, leaning back against the wall. He's sitting at the head of his bed and Chuck is perched near the foot because while Dutch has more than one chair, both of them are currently piled high with assorted junk, from scavenged parts to paint canisters.

Chuck twists his lips, annoyed. “So my spacial sense _really_ sucks, was that your point?”

“Or maybe you just haven't gotten used to how long your limbs are,” Dutch suggests. “Pretty sure you're taller than you were when I first met you.”

Chuck shifts his shoulders and looks away, self-conscious as always about anything to do with his body or how he looks. That shoulder twitch just draws Dutch’s attention back to the way the loose neck of his shirt falls, though, the way his collarbones poke out, the delicate line of them under ivory skin--Dutch wrenches his eyes away.

“Anyway!” Chuck says after a minute, and flicks his screens back up, though Dutch suspects it's as much for an excuse not to meet Dutch’s eyes while asking embarrassing questions as for any better reason. “Mike's young and healthy, so we don't have to worry about… most of this stuff,” he mutters, and scrolls down. “Um. Do you have any idea, like, how long it was between… uh.”

“How long one round was?” Dutch says, taking pity. “Or how long between rounds?”

“Between rounds,” Chuck says, cheeks pink.

Despite the intimate nature of the questions, Dutch does his best to answer them as accurately as possible. It's to help Mike, after all. Undoubtedly for the same reason, Chuck ignores his deepening blush and doggedly keeps reading off the list he's compiled until Dutch has given him all the information he can. Chuck takes notes on all of it, then keeps typing for a while, lip caught between his teeth.

Dutch takes the opportunity to bring up his previous concern. “You're not gonna do anything you're not comfortable with, right?”

“What are you--” Chuck breaks off to shoot him a look. “What, you think just because I don't want to jump in bed right away, I can't handle having sex? I'm not _that_ much of a coward, Dutch. Or that clueless, or whatever it is you think.”

Hands raised, Dutch protests, “Hey, I don't think--”

“I'm not even a _virgin_ ,” Chuck says, and goes bright red.

Well, great, now Dutch is distracted. He knows he shouldn't ask, he's got no right to go prying, but the words fall out of his mouth before he can catch them. “Who, um, who were you…”

“Couple of guys in the programming division, before,” Chuck mumbles, shrugging awkwardly. “And, y’know, Thurman.”

“Right,” Dutch manages, and tries to stop himself staring. Geez, so that's not even a recent development, Chuck lost his virginity way before Dutch did. And has slept with more people. That's… unexpected.

Could Thurman be the other person Chuck’s interested in? No, it was someone in the room, that's right. Probably Julie, she and Chuck seem to have some kind of vibe going.

“Cool!” he adds hastily to cover up his distraction.

“Cool?” Chuck says, giving him a suspicious look.

“Yeah, cool, that's, y’know, fine! Uh. Wow. So, uh, you and Thurman?”

“Oh, yeah, no, it's not anything serious.” Chuck shrugs even more uncomfortably. “We were just, you know, helping each other out. Just like the guys back in the labs, it wasn't, it was just. Convenient.” He's trying to hide behind his hair, face still red as he flicks distractedly through the data on his screens.

“Right, sure. Cool,” Dutch says, nodding too much. Convenient. Sure, okay, that's, that's a different reason to have sex, but he gets it. Why not, right? Heck, if Chuck asked _Dutch_ for a little help, he definitely wouldn't say no to being convenient! And now he's trying really hard not to wonder what makes Thurman suitable for the ‘help a buddy out’ position, and if Dutch can do anything to become eligible.

“God, why are we even--let's get back to the subject,” Chuck says, and puts up a fourth screen. Pointing to the top of the text, which Dutch is at the wrong angle to read, Chuck clears his throat. “Basically, werewolves got screwed over in the heat department.”

Dutch bites his lip at the unintentional pun. Chuck continues without even noticing.

“Obviously in wolves the point is to get the females pregnant, and as far as I can tell the females are the only ones who really do the heat thing, too. Once a year some of the females get horny, have sex for a week or so with their chosen mate, and they're done.

“But then you mix in humans, who are horny year-round and do things differently, and everything gets weird.” Chuck shoves both hands through his hair, glaring at the screen. “Maybe it's the magic, I don't know. Biologically speaking, it makes no _sense_ for it to--agh. Beside the point. Um. The point is, in wer, reproduction is obviously not the goal of heat, or Mike would only want to sleep with Julie. So, it seems likely the goal is just sex. Or more specifically, c-climax.”

Chuck stutters to a halt for a moment, red-faced, then takes a deep breath and goes on. “So if I'm right, the quickest way to deal with a round of heat is to make… uh.”

“Make Mike come as fast as you can?” Dutch offers, frowning.

“And as many _times_ as you can,” Chuck finishes, and rubs his hands over his face. His ears are red. It's incredibly cute. “And it's possible that could sort of--back off the intensity some, so it'd last a shorter time and he'd have a longer dormant period afterwards. I hope.”

“Huh,” Dutch says slowly. “That seems like it'd be useful for Julie to know right now.”

“Ahahaha, yeah, too bad she's, uh, busy.” Chuck crosses his arms over his chest, shoulders pulling in.

Dutch watches him a moment, trying to judge. “Bet if you went up there to tell her, she'd be okay with it.”

Chuck’s head jerks around and he stares. “Are you kidding, she'd _kill_ me!”

Dutch raises his eyebrows. “I didn't say walk right in and stare while you're talkin’. Just knock and say you've got a tip for her from your research, somethin’ like that. You can crack the door open, explain it without even seein’ anything; she's not gonna be mad about that.”

“If you're so sure about that, why don't _you_ go?”

“Cuz you're the one who figured it out, you should get the credit,” Dutch says. “And, uh, I'm pretty sure she likes you. She might be annoyed if it's me interruptin’, but she won't get mad at you.”

“You're crazy,” Chuck says faintly.

Dutch rolls his eyes. “Did you not notice her flirtin’ with you earlier? All that stuff about your on-switch?”

“Oh my god, no! That wasn't flirting! That was just…” Chuck flails his arms, apparently hoping to finish his sentence more persuasively in semaphore.

“Julie decidin’ to chat about your dick for no apparent reason?”

“Dutch!” Chuck yelps, folding his arms over his head. “Oh my _god._ ”

If he's really had that much experience, it's kinda funny that he's still so twitchy about this stuff. But then, maybe everything he's done was too casual for flirting? Or maybe it's just that it's Chuck and being twitchy is one of his specialties.

“Chuck!” Dutch retorts. “She needs to know either way, right? We gotta find out if this works, if it'll slow things down some.”

“You know, there are easier ways to get me out of your room,” Chuck mutters.

“I invited you here in the first place, I'm not tryin’ to kick you out!” Dutch says, exasperated. “You can come right back, we got more to talk about anyway! Look, it's just better comin’ from you, all right? I already gave Julie some tips, if I come back with instructions from you on top of that it just looks _weird_ , like I'm tryin’ to tell her what to do, or hornin’ in on her time with Mike or somethin’. Everybody knows you've been lookin’ this stuff up, it makes a lot more sense for you to do it.”

Chuck groans into his hands. “I'm pretty sure you're over-thinking this, and it's _me_ saying that.”

Dutch shrugs helplessly. “‘S just how it seems to me.”

Chuck looks over, thin-lipped, and shakes his head. “This is dumb,” he says, and stands up. “If Julie kills me, I'll hold you personally responsible.”

“Deal,” Dutch says.

*

Chuck has no idea why he's doing this. Dutch just talked for a while, sounding completely reasonable, and suddenly Chuck was agreeing to interrupt someone in the _middle of_ _sex_ to ask them to test out a _theory_. Julie is absolutely going to kill him.

He knocks on Mike's door anyway, face already heating at the low moans from inside.

“What?” Julie’s voice says, sounding annoyed.

Chuck knew it, he knew it, he's going to punch Dutch. Or yell at him, anyway, if he survives this. “I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry!” Chuck says, fast and high. “It's just, um, I had an idea about how--”

“Chuck?” Julie cuts him off, surprised, and there's some murmuring and another moan from Mike. Chuck bites his lip and breathes, desperately trying not to get hard.

“Why don't you come in instead of yelling through the door?” Julie says, and. What?

Okay, obviously she means with his eyes shut, and yelling through the door isn't ideal for getting ideas across easily, but it's still. Uh. Very… relaxed of her?

“Okay,” Chuck says, dry-mouthed, and closes his eyes tight before opening the door and sidling in, closing it behind him. From the direction of Mike's bed he can hear sounds that were blocked by the door, quiet slick noises and harsh breathing. Mike gasps and groans softly.

They're still going. Of course they are, because Mike's in heat; it'd be mean to just stop and make him wait for Chuck to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth--

“Are your eyes closed?” Julie says, laughing a little. “It's okay, you can open them.” She sounds out of breath.

What, no. She has to be kidding, right? “But you guys are--you--ah--”

“You don't have to,” Mike breaks in. “ _Nnh_ \--you don't have to do anything you don't want to, okay, buddy? _Ah--_ ”

“You make it sound--like I'm threatening him,” Julie says, voice hitching with effort. “Of course he doesn't--have to do anything, but if he wants to look, he can. You worry too much, cowboy, he's not--going to freak out over that.”

Which is true, Chuck totally isn't going to freak out, this is no big deal and he's sick of people treating him like he's fragile tonight, first Dutch and now Mike. He opens his eyes.

Mike is on all fours on the bed sideways to the door, all splayed golden-brown limbs and wide yellow eyes as Julie kneels behind him, round hips working, small breasts bouncing with her movement. Her creamy skin is flushed with exertion, her cheeks are pink and she's smiling at Chuck and she and Mike are completely naked. He _knew_ they would be naked, he knew what they were doing, but somehow knowing and seeing are _really different_ and his eyes slam closed again before he can even think how dumb it makes him look.

“Oh my god,” he says, voice squeaking. “Oh my god, oh my god.”

Julie is--Chuck didn't really know what a strap-on would look like, but he assumed it would look sort of silly. The straps of the harness around her hips are electric blue, and he could see part of the--the toy attached to it when her hips drew back, and it's bright purple. It _is_ a little silly, but he didn't realize before that what it looks like doesn't matter because the fact of the matter is, Julie is _fucking Mike_ and that doesn't look silly at all, it looks--oh _god_ is how it looks.

Chuck’s pants are way too tight.

“Chuck?” Julie says.

“You okay, dude?” Mike adds. “Jules, can you-- _ahh_ \--chill for a minute so he can--”

“I'm fine!” Chuck manages. “I'm f-fine.” He's feeling like an idiot and incredibly confused on top of it, but the sooner he gets out of this unnervingly hot situation the better. “I, um, I just needed to say, it's possible that over-satiation will help scale back the intensity of the heat, so Julie, if you can--” oh goddammit, he has to say it out loud _again_ , “--make-him-come-as-much-as-you-can, that might help,” he says as fast as he can manage.

And that's it, he's done what he came for, he can go. Turning, he fumbles for the doorknob without opening his eyes.

“Really?” Julie says, in an intrigued tone. “Got it. I'll try that.”

“Wait!” Mike says. “Like, until it's over?”

“Or as long as he can go?” Julie asks.

“Oh god,” Mike mutters.

Chuck hesitates. “Just until it's over, for now,” he says. “If that doesn't work we can try further experiments.”

“Great,” Julie says, and Mike gasps at something she does. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“ _Nh--_ god, Jules-- _ah! Ahh_ \-- _ohgod_ \--”

“No problem,” Chuck babbles, and slides out the door, not quite slamming it behind him.

Then he stands in the hall, staring at nothing for a few seconds until a groan makes it through the door. That's not going to help the situation in his pants, so Chuck goes to sit on the stairs for a while, a safe distance away from everyone while he tries not to think about anything. Especially what just happened.

*

Dutch expected Chuck to take five minutes and be back blushing. Or possibly, just barely possibly, not to come back at all because he'd been invited in for a threesome. According to the footsteps overhead, the five-minute estimate was close to the mark, except Chuck started back and hasn't arrived.

Somewhat concerned, Dutch goes to check on him. He doesn't think the guy's got any reason to have a panic attack right now, but what does he know?

Chuck is sitting hunched over in the middle of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest, staring at his knees. His face is flushed.

“You all right, man?” Dutch says, and Chuck jerks like he didn't notice him.

“You're way too quiet in your bare feet,” Chuck says shakily.

Dutch catches the tone of his voice, puts the blush together with the way he's curled over and nods to himself. “They invite you to join them?”

“What?! _No!_ ” Chuck shoves a hand into his hair and tugs distractedly, staring wild-eyed at Dutch. “Why would you even say that, god!”

Dutch shrugs, realizes there's no way to say ‘Because you're obviously turned on’ without embarrassing him even worse, and elects to skip the question. “You wanna come back and sit down?”

Chuck drops his forehead to his knees. “I'll… be there in a little bit.”

Dutch swallows. It's hard--uh, _difficult_ \--enough hanging out with him all sleepy and disheveled in the middle of the night without knowing he's turned on as well. For the sake of his own sanity, Dutch should probably just nod and leave him here until he feels like coming back.

But he can't, because he's an idiot.

“Okay,” he says, and sits sideways a few steps up from the bottom. “So, what are you plannin’ to do for your date with Mike?”

“Date?” Chuck lifts his head to look down at Dutch, chewing on his lip. “I don't think there's going to be time for that. Unless the thing they're trying--uh--unless his dormant time, like, doubles, Texas and I are going to have to step in today.”

“What?” Dutch frowns. “Why?”

“Because otherwise you're going to be completely exhausted really fast! Every four hours? That's ridiculous! You can't keep up with that, no one could!”

“Julie’s helpin’, though, so it's only every eight hours,” Dutch argues.

“Julie has to go back up to Deluxe!” Chuck says in exasperation. “She can't stay down here for much longer, remember? It's going to be just you.”

Well, crap. Dutch managed to put the little hitch of Julie’s double life out of his mind, apparently. He runs his tongue over his teeth, thinking. That much sex, that often, could definitely wear a person out. But fortunately--“I can just use a toy on him if I get too tired. Right? You woulda mentioned if that wasn't gonna work, since--”

“Julie,” Chuck finishes in a squeak. “Yeah. It works. _Gnh._ ” He hides his face again.

“Yeah, so no problem.” It's still a potentially exhausting amount of sex, but Dutch can't bring himself to mind that much. At least from this end of things. In four days he might be pretty done. “I got this. You don't have to worry about fillin’ in until you're ready, okay?”

Chuck’s head comes up with a jerk. “What is _up_ with you?” he snaps. “I know I'm a walking joke, but I'm not a scared virgin, I'm not that delicate, and I can handle having sex! _Especially_ with Mike, fuck! Stop talking like I'm going to keel over at first sight of a dick!” Going darker red, he drops his head back to his knees, folding his arms around them.

Dutch decides it's best for his health not to mention the renewed blush from just talking about it. “I don't think you're gonna keel over, man,” he says. “If you say you'll be okay, that's all I gotta know.”

“Good,” Chuck growls without looking up.

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while before Chuck stands up without looking at Dutch, carefully steps over him and goes down the stairs. He's still red in the face, probably because from the look of his pants he's still hard. Dutch tries not to think about it and follows him back to Dutch’s room, where Chuck folds himself up at the end of the bed and brings up a couple of screens, poking at them angrily.

The silence continues as Dutch sprawls back against the wall at the head of the bed, thinking with equal longing of more sleep and… other stuff. Here he is, alone with Chuck in his room in the middle of the night, and he can't even fantasize about doing anything with him because Chuck is mad at him. Julie thought he was going to say something to Chuck, but that's obviously not going to happen when he can't even figure out what to say to fix this.

“I don't think you're a joke, and I don't think you're fragile,” he says finally. “I just think you'd do a lot for Mike, even if you didn't--it wasn't really what you wanted.”

Chuck’s head turns toward him slightly, though he doesn't stop scrolling. “Yeah, well,” he says, “I don't have any problem wanting… that. With Mike.”

“Okay, man. Then it's all good.”

“Good,” Chuck mumbles, and the angry jabbing at the screens calms down. “I know I'm missing something,” he says after a minute. “If I could just figure out what I was looking for in these damn forum threads, I could refine my search terms enough to maybe get something useful.”

Dutch nods, but has nothing to contribute. He gazes at the ceiling, mind wandering. “What I don't get is how they keep this whole heat thing under wraps in Deluxe,” he says eventually. “I mean, they don't have the wer population we got, cuz they keep fleein’ down here, but wer still exist up there. They're not all kids, either; a bunch of them have to’ve hit heat. So what, do they pretend they just get sick, or what?”

“I don't think,” Chuck says slowly, “they do go into it. Mike would've recognized the feeling if he'd ever had it before. And. And he should’ve, actually, more than once. Apparently they start pretty soon after hitting puberty.”

“You're kiddin’,” Dutch says, staring.

“No. There’s a number of threads on how to arrange things so your kid can get through their first heat as safely as possible. And without, um, trauma.”

“Holy crap.” Dutch sits more upright. “That is _crazy_. I mean, okay, I've wondered a few times what it'd be like to be wer, with the, y’know, healin’ real quick and all that, but dang. Count me out if I'd have been dealing with that.”

“Yeah, I know. But the point is, there's some kind of difference between Deluxians and Motorcitizens--” Chuck stops dead, staring over the top of his screen at the painting on the wall. It’s one of Dutch’s most recent ones and he’s pretty pleased with it, but he has the feeling Chuck isn't actually seeing it.

“What's up?”

“It's suppressed,” Chuck says, half to himself. “Of course it is, Kane hates things he can't control and heat would be an incredible disruption, Deluxians suddenly going sex-crazed, calling in to work sick because they--yeah, of course it's suppressed. That explains why Mike never had it before--although. We've been down here about a year and a half. If this is the time of year it hits him, why didn't it happen last year?”

“Maybe whatever the suppressant is takes a while to wear off?” Dutch suggests. “So, by the time it was all gone, he was already safely past the right time.”

Chuck snaps his fingers and points at him, nodding. Dutch tries to ignore the little thrill of pleasure.

“Depending on the concentration that had built up in his bloodstream, muscle tissue, and wherever else, it could take a long time to leave the body entirely,” Chuck agrees. “I wonder if there are side effects. Oh, it could be in the food up there, even. There's got to be some reason no one’s tried to smuggle a supply down here, considering the number of people who have to be inconvenienced by heat and want it to go away.”

“You don't know no one's _tried_ ,” Dutch points out.

“No, but I know for some reason it's not considered a viable alternative, or I would've run into mentions of it already, people looking for it at least. Anyway, the important thing is that now I've got more search terms to try,” Chuck finishes, and starts typing with renewed determination. Dutch can't help grinning over how cute he is, but fortunately Chuck only has attention for his screens.

They fall into a long silence as Chuck combs the forum for new information. Dutch eventually sort of folds onto his side and gives in to the heaviness of his eyelids, letting his eyes close and drifting into nebulous thoughts that quickly become pieces of dreams.

When he wakes up he has no idea how much time has passed, but Chuck is still hunched on the bed, scrolling intently and taking notes as he murmurs to himself.

“She was prepared, but not for the exacerbated effects, that… yeah. Why the hell didn't Mikey make wer friends, we would've been ready for _all_ of this,” he growls, then looks guiltily over at Dutch. “Sorry, dude, didn't mean to wake you.”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” Dutch mumbles, and blinks at him. “You find somethin’?”

Chuck lets out a long breath, shoving one hand through his hair. “Yyyeah. Yeah I did. Um. So, wer from Deluxe sometimes… have an anomalous reaction to having been on the suppressant. Only sometimes, though,” he says, frowning. “Except--she was twenty-three, yeah, it has to be correlated with age, I think! The ones reporting it who’ve mentioned their age are all youngish, so far. If they've been on the suppressant since before their heat would've started, it's like their bodies scale the intensity way up when it finally hits.”

“That sounds like Mike, sure enough,” Dutch says, pushing himself up.

“Yeah. Apparently it could've been worse, even.” Chuck shoots him a sideways glance. “This lady had a dormant period of barely _two hours_ for a while.”

Dutch’s eyebrows go up all by themselves. “Dang. I thought Mike had it rough.”

“I mean, he _does_ , it could just be rougher.” Chuck pulls at his hair, frowning again. “But here's the thing. There's a few posts about how to get the intensity to scale back down. According to them, this would all be easier if Mike had started taking this one kind of medicine as soon as he got down here, extract of, was it red? No, blue; blue cohosh. Not that that does us any good at this point.”

“Did they say anything that does?” Dutch prompts.

“Right, yeah. There's a few things it might help him to take. Maybe,” Chuck adds, twisting his lips at the screen. Dutch would bet a lot that he's peevish because one or more of the suggestions involve some kind of magical theory. It's funny that a guy whose best friend is a wer has such a dislike for magic in general, especially considering that he LARPs. Chuck insists that's different, though: pretend magic is one thing, but real magic should make sense, follow some kind of logical rules. Dutch thinks he's just mad he can't science it.

“I can talk to Jacob,” Chuck goes on, “see what he says and if he can maybe get hold of some of that tomorrow. Anyway, the other thing they all talk about is the importance of having a mate.”

“Shouldn't be a problem, he's got four of us,” Dutch says.

“Mm, yeah,” Chuck says, chewing on his lip. “Assuming he actually thinks of us all that way. If he actually thinks of some of us as just--friends he wants to sleep with, that's not going to work.”

Dutch frowns. “Huh.” Hard to tell if that distinction has something to do with wer magic, or is more about hormone levels and releasing the right chemicals. It sounds kind of like the biting thing, which had some pretty intense emotions wrapped up with it, so would naturally have a powerful effect on all the neurochemicals.

 _You mean a lot to me_. Dutch shakes the thought off; he can hope, sure, but he's not going to make any assumptions.

“Well,” he says, focusing on the subject again, “so long as he's got one mate, that should do it, right?”

“Ye-es,” Chuck says slowly.

“Chuck,” Dutch sighs. “Come on, man, what aren't you tellin’ me?”

Chuck blushes, catching Dutch off-guard. “The thing _is_ ,” he says, keeping his eyes firmly on the screen, “if he does think of two of us that way--or three, or whatever--it's, uh. Just one isn't going to do it.” He flicks a look at Dutch, whose brows rise higher and higher as he thinks that over.

“Haha, hang on, you're talkin’ like, takin’ turns like we've been doin’, right, not--”

Chuck is shaking his head, blushing darker.

“Uh,” Dutch says. “Huh. So, uh, like all at once? Really?”

“Yyyeah,” Chuck sighs, high-pitched. “The guy posting had two girlfriends, and he was, y’know, trading off, and everyone said his dormant periods should be longer and his active periods should be less intense, but it didn't happen until he got desperate and asked them both over at once. After _that_ it settled down a lot. And they didn't need to do it like that most of the time, just, like, ahaha, once or twice. Aha. God,” he finishes, half-moaning, and puts his hands over his face.

Dutch contemplates this a moment. “Wow. That could be…” really amazing, actually; Chuck and Mike in the same bed? Along with Texas, who Dutch would maybe kinda not exactly mind having sex with, especially if he stops being able to talk when he's turned on enough. And Dutch may not want Julie himself, but he suspects the other guys do, and watching them be turned on over her would be. Really hot. “...Um. Interesting,” he settles on saying out loud.

“Oh yeah. Sure! Interesting. That's definitely the word I'd use!” Chuck says. He doesn't sound like he's nearly as attracted to the idea as Dutch is. His shoulders are pulled in and his voice is strained.

Dutch sucks on his lip for a moment before saying cautiously, “I guess it could be kinda awkward, but also, uh, sorta hot? I mean, Mike’ll be all turned on and excited, and you like someone else along with him, right? So, whoever that is, they'll be there too. Doesn't that sound a little... fun?”

“No,” Chuck says flatly. “Because it doesn't matter who I'm interested in if Mike’s the only one who's interested in _me_.”

Dutch stares at him. “The heck are you talkin’ about? I mean, I'm not dead sure about Julie, yeah, but Texas made it _real_ dang obvious that he's interested in you. You not into him?” That would be unsurprising, really, considering how Texas has made a habit of acting around Chuck most of the time.

But Chuck ducks his head so his hair swings forward to hide his face. “He didn't mean it like that,” he mutters.

Dutch raises his eyebrows and purses his lips at the side of Chuck’s head. “Wow. Really, man? You're goin’ with that? Because that is flimsy as _hell_. Texas is so into you he apologized for bein’ a jerk. How often does Texas _ever_ apologize for somethin’ he said? Cuz that was the first time I've ever seen it.”

Chuck shakes his head. “He's not _into me_ , Dutch, he was just… I don't know, maybe he actually felt _bad_ about being a jerk, did you think of that?”

“He was bein’ a jerk in the first place because he was tryin’ to get your attention, though.”

“Texas wants everybody's attention, dude, he's desperate for attention pretty much all the time,” Chuck sighs. Which...okay, yeah, accurate.

“Okay, and wantin’ to kiss you? That's not like, suggestive or anything as far as you're concerned?” Dutch says, crossing his arms.

Chuck wraps his arms around himself and shrugs slightly, eyes down. “I don't know what that was about. But I don't think it's because he wants me.”

Dutch can only shake his head, lost for words in the face of this stubborn denial. After a minute he says, “So, what's the difference between Texas and Thurman? Like, you obviously believed Thurman when he said he wanted you, so why--”

“When he said--what?” Chuck looks up to stare at him. “No, he never--did you miss when I said it wasn't serious? We're just friends who help each other out, it's not like that.”

“Okay,” Dutch says slowly. “Maybe you're right about that, but how do you know? I mean, Texas definitely wants you, but you keep denyin’ it. How do you _know_ neither of them wants you?”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “Be serious! Why the hell would they? I'm bony and too skinny and jumpy and scared of everything, a total wimp!” He waves a hand in illustration, voice disgusted. “I'm not the kind of person anyone wants. Unless it's Mike, and he never makes sense anyway.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Dutch says, narrowing his eyes. “Sometimes he has good ideas.” Chuck is making this conversation way more stupid and difficult than Dutch was prepared for, and it's starting to piss him off.

“Yeah, well, thinking I'm attractive is definitely not one of them,” Chuck mutters, turning back to his screen. “If he even does.”

“Don't you even go doubtin’ Mike,” Dutch snaps. “He thinks you're cute as hell and he's not the only one!”

“Texas doesn't think I'm _cute_ , Dutch, he barely even likes me!”

“Yes he _does_ , he likes you a hell of a lot and he wants to kiss your face and probably a bunch of other stuff too!”

Chuck is staring at him again, half annoyed and half confused. “What the fuck is up with you? It's like you're weirdly fixated on Texas!”

“I am not fixated on Texas!” Dutch snarls. “I'm pissed off that it looks like the only way to get you to accept that someone wants you is for that someone to be Mike! Surprise! Other people exist, and they've damn well got opinions of their own! You might not get it, it might not make sense to you, but if you deny those opinions even exist, that makes you a real dick!”

Chuck’s shoulders are hunched and his whole body is tense as he faces Dutch, head low but eyes narrowed. Taking a deep breath, he says in a voice that only shakes slightly, “I don't know what you're talking about, but if you don't quit yelling at me I'm leaving.”

Dutch glares at him, breathing hard, then makes a growly groan sort of noise and puts his hands over his face, trying to cool down. Yelling isn't going to do anyone any good, he knows that. He's just so _mad!_ He hates that Chuck talks about himself like that, that he thinks so little of himself that he can't even conceive of other people finding him attractive. It's driving Dutch nuts.

“Okay,” he says, dropping his hands, his voice as calm as he can make it. “You're a smart guy. I'm pretty sure you understood what I said.”

Chuck frowns at him a minute. “You're saying I'm refusing to admit that Texas might like me because it doesn't make any sense, and that makes me a dick,” he says dubiously.

“Except for the not makin’ sense bit, basically, yeah! I'm saying it's dumb that someone could pretty much walk up to you and ask you on a date and you'd just assume they were full of it!” Whoops, he was supposed to be staying calm. Well, so much for that.

“Texas didn't ask me on a date!”

Dutch rolls his eyes ferociously. “No, he wanted to _kiss_ you! Which is not that different! Seriously, man, why are you so _dense_ about this?”

“Fuck you, okay!” Chuck snaps, face flushing. “It's easy for you, isn't it! You know _exactly_ how good-looking you are, you and your confidence and your art and everything--you didn't have any doubt Tennie meant it when she kissed you that first time! It made _sense_ to you! Sure she likes you, why wouldn't she? _No_ reason! Must be really nice,” he finishes bitterly.

“Hey, I know how lucky I am she was interested!” Dutch protests, but it's half-hearted because he's distracted. _You know how good-looking you are_ doesn't necessarily mean _I'm attracted to you_ , but it's not a bad sign, either.

“Yeah? How about how lucky you are that you didn't even question it?” Chuck crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“Yeah, I'm startin’ to see that,” Dutch says, frowning at him. “You really think nobody could be interested in you, huh. Except for Mike, I guess.”

Chuck looks away and shrugs. “Pretty sure even he's going to be disappointed when he--when we--if I g-get my--oh my _god_ ,” he groans, and folds over his knees right through his screens, which fizz and blur before vanishing. “He'll want me naked and he's going to be so grossed out!”

“By what?” Dutch says in bewilderment, scooting over so he can put a hand on Chuck’s back.

“By _me!_ ” Chuck says, straightening enough to glare at him.

Dutch blinks at him for a minute, trying to guess what he means by that before giving up. “What about you is gonna gross him out, exactly?” he says cautiously. Does Chuck have some kind of deformity, or, like, warts or something?

“Everything I already said! I'm too skinny and bony and pointless and gross,” Chuck says, hands flailing.

Dutch breathes in deep, skin prickling with the flush of anger that surges over him again. This time he reins it in, holds it back. Chuck’s not saying this stuff to piss Dutch off, he's saying it because he honestly believes it.

“You're sure as hell not pointless,” he says evenly, “and I don't get why you think you're gross. So you're skinny! So what, it's cute, and I'm not built like Mike either! I'm pretty sure you're the only one who's got a problem with how you look.”

“It's cute?” Chuck says, staring at him. “Dude, you don't have to lie to me to try to make me feel better, I know how I look.”

“You know,” Dutch says in exasperation, “I'm not sure you do!” Heart starting to slam against his ribs, he looks at Chuck, at his blonde bangs all messy and his hazel eyes showing behind them, the red place on one side of his lower lip where he keeps nibbling it, the scattering of cinnamon freckles on his cheeks and over his nose. Chuck looks suspicious and confused and way too appealing to deal with, and it's time Dutch stopped being a coward and said something. It's not like it'll fix anything, but avoiding it isn't helping, either.

“Your eyes are gorgeous,” he says, and swallows. He sounds funny in his own ears, breathless and unsteady, but he keeps talking. “I love the colors, the way there's kind of a brown star around your pupils and then green fanning out from there. I wish you wouldn't hide them all the time. And I really like your freckles, and your fingers are really long and sexy--” and crap, Dutch’s face is flushing. He hopes Chuck can't tell. “And I--I kinda want to kiss your collarbones. Cuz they're just. Really nice.” And yeah that's it, that's all he's got.

Chuck’s eyes are completely round and his cheeks are red. He stares for a minute more, then says in a high-pitched voice, “Okay, but as an artist, your opinion isn't really--”

“Oh, screw you!” Dutch says, half amused and half annoyed. “If we're talking aesthetics, my opinion is _more_ trustworthy than anyone else's, okay? Aesthetics is my jam. Don't even try to tell me my taste doesn't count.”

“I wasn't--wha--Your taste? Are you s-saying you, that I'm,” Chuck manages, and trails off, mouth working mutely.

“I'm sayin’, if you think Mike is crazy because he wants you,” Dutch starts, and has to take a breath to go on, “then I guess I'm crazy too.”

Chuck stares, squeezes his eyes shut, opens them and blinks. “Okay, no, no, pretty sure I'm still awake,” he says in an undertone.

Dutch rolls his eyes and smiles a little, starting to relax. That's not the kind of reaction you get from a person who's horrified by the thought of being with you. It's not necessarily encouraging, either, but definitely better than disgust.

“Okay,” Chuck says, “but besides being an artist and having really weird tastes, what possible reason do you have to want me?”

“Gee, lemme think,” Dutch drawls. “Maybe cuz you're smart and fun to figure stuff out with and you have good ideas and you help me make things work, and you're cute and you help us out all the time, and also because I like you? Kind of a lot.”

Blushing, Chuck studies his face, then nods, ducking his head. “You are crazy, yeah. Not as crazy as Mike, because he's crazy for a lot more reasons than that, but still nuts. Oh my god.” He hides his face in his hands and says, muffled, “What do you even say to that?”

“Well, you could try sayin’ ‘Yes I will totally date you’,” Dutch suggests, grinning a little.

Chuck peers out between his fingers and takes a moment to answer. Dutch’s grin begins to fade.

“I just want to state for the record,” Chuck says, voice high again, “that this is a terrible idea and you're going to wonder what you were thinking, and I'm only agreeing because I'm an idiot and you're hot and really cool and _aaagh_.” Groaning, he puts his arms over his head again to hide more thoroughly.

“Oh my god, you're so darn cute,” Dutch says, breathless again and grinning wide enough his cheeks ache. Holy crap, Chuck agreed, Chuck wants to date him, hot damn this is the best night! Sex with Mike and maybe, if Dutch is lucky, a kiss from Chuck. Maybe. He's going to have to be persistent to get past Chuck’s issues, but Dutch is good at that, he's stubborn as heck when he wants something.

“I'm really not cute, you're just, I don't know, confused or something,” Chuck says, straightening up and running his hands over his red face. “But we're way off-topic again, we're supposed to be discussing Mike's mates. We need to find out who he really thinks of that way, so those people can fix the problem.”

Dutch is too distracted thinking about kissing Chuck to catch up for a minute, but he gets there. He probably shouldn't be surprised that Chuck has other priorities than talking about dating and maybe trying a kiss or two. Actually, he's not surprised, just mildly resentful.

“Right,” he says. “Pretty sure that's you, at least, but we can wait ‘til the mornin’ to find out for sure, right? I mean, we're not talkin’ about interruptin’ Julie’s time with him, the mate thing has to wait until the next round starts up.”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, slumping, “that's true. Oh god. Um, if _I_ talk to Mike about the mate thing…” He trails off, watching Dutch sideways through his bangs.

Dutch raises his eyebrows and grins again. “You want me to explain it to Texas or Julie if they are one? Yeah, I can do that. But,” he adds, leaning in close, eyes on Chuck’s mouth, “what do I get in exchange?”

Chuck leans away, eyes going round. “The chance to not have to watch me melt into a humiliated puddle on the floor?”

Dutch laughs and straightens, hands up in a ‘chill out, relax’ gesture. “Yeah, okay, man.”

Chuck shakes his head. “You were just with Mike at the beginning of the night, you can't be that interested already.”

Dutch blinks at him and frowns. “I’m not lookin’ for sex. I just wanna kiss you.”

Chuck gives him an extremely dubious look. “Yeah, but that usually leads to other stuff.”

“I mean, it _can_ sometimes, yeah, but it totally doesn't have to. And, uh.” Dutch smiles cautiously. “I figured you wouldn't be up for that yet, and I know I'm not right now. I wasn't plannin’ on pushin’ you.” Even as he says it he can't help thinking about if Chuck agreed anyway, about pulling that stretched out t-shirt off him, getting his hands on all that ivory skin--

Except it wouldn't go like that, would it, because Chuck thinks his body is gross. If he's scared to have even Mike see him naked, he definitely isn't going to want Dutch--

Dutch blinks with the realization. “That's why you're not into the idea of gettin’ in bed with Mike and whoever. You don't want people seein’ you naked.”

Chuck twitches and crosses his arms, looking away. “Partly, yeah, and also being in bed with people who aren't interested in me doesn't really sound that appealing, weirdly enough. I mean, sure we'll be focused on Mike, but we're still all right there.”

Dutch sighs. “Right. And you're a hard sell on anyone bein’ into you in the first place, even though--man, it was really clear with Texas, okay? Like, of the four of us, Julie is seriously the only one who's got a chance of not wantin’ you, and I still think she does.”

The pink in Chuck’s cheeks darkens again, but he only shakes his head.

Dutch thinks about the situation. Chuck was pissed earlier when Dutch kept trying to check in with him, but he also seems pretty unhappy about this. Dutch doesn't really want Chuck mad at him again, but risking it's better than letting him do something he can't handle.

“Even if you are one of Mike's mates, if doin’ that's gonna make you miserable, you shouldn't do it.”

Chuck straightens completely to stare. His mouth hangs open, and then he finds words. His voice is high and shaky with outrage and disbelief. “I shouldn't do it. I should just--let Mike go without something that'll make him feel better, let you get exhausted and sleep deprived--just sit back and watch you guys struggle? If you really think I'm that much of a coward, why the hell do you even like me?!”

“You're not a damn coward!” Dutch snaps. “Stop makin’ assumptions about what I think and listen to me! Mike's not in _trouble_ , okay? Even if he's gotta go it on his own for a while, he can do that, he'll just be uncomfortable. He made it all mornin’ without help, remember? So if I need more time to rest, I'll get it, it's not gonna kill him. What _would_ kill him is if you push yourself into doin’ somethin’ that's gonna mess you up, okay? And I wouldn't be too thrilled about it, either,” he adds more quietly.

Chuck glares at him. “I appreciate your concern,” he says coldly, “but I will be _fine_.” Then he throws his hands in the air, dropping the chilly facade. “I'll _deal_ with it, okay?”

Dutch raises his eyebrows, tight-lipped. “Really, man? You'll _deal_ with bein’ naked and doin’ sex stuff with Mike with maybe three other people there? When you don't even wanna get naked for _him?_ ”

“Yes!” Chuck stands up, hands in fists. “I will.”

He looks ready to walk out if Dutch pushes him any farther. Dutch doesn't want to drop this, he's worried about Chuck and it's driving him crazy, but yelling won't get him anywhere, he proved that already. He's got to chill and be as reasonable as he can. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, and Chuck seems to relax a little when he doesn't snap back immediately.

“Look,” Dutch says, trying to sound calm, “I know you're nothin’ _close_ to a coward. It's not about courage, it's about what you're comfortable with. I just don't want you gettin’ hurt.”

“I'll be fine,” Chuck says again, and Dutch gives him an exasperated look. “I will! Dude, you're talking like I feel safe and cozy most of the time! I spend like seventy percent of my time in fear of my _life_ , either because I'm in Mike's car and we're going at a respectable percentage of the speed of sound or because things are literally trying to kill us!” He stops waving his arms around and takes a deep breath. “My threshold for discomfort is really fucking high, okay?”

That's… true. And yeah, Dutch hasn't actually been thinking of it like that, but. He can't help thinking there's a difference between the kind of danger the Burners have to face every day and the kinds of things Chuck will be dealing with when doing this. There's a difference between fighting because you _have_ to to survive and having sex to help out a friend. It's not a fair comparison.

He's still thinking about how to say that without restarting the ‘not a virgin, not a coward’ fight when Chuck sits back down on the bed, letting out a long sigh. “I mean, I'm not saying being totally humiliated in front of all you guys is going to be fun, if that's what happens, but I'm pretty sure it won't actually kill me. So previous incidents with public embarrassment suggest, anyway.” He looks away, shrugging uncomfortably.

Dutch shakes his head. “I don't get it. There's nothin’ wrong with being skinny! I don't get why you think you look so bad that, like, someone seein’ you naked is humiliating!”

“I didn't expect you to,” Chuck mutters.

Dutch’s frustration flares up again, but he catches it, takes another slow breath and blows out anger and air together. He wishes he could get into Chuck’s head and reset whatever glitch has things messed up in there. Not an option, unfortunately, and verbal reassurance probably isn't going to be enough to fix it either.

So what if instead of trying to fix _him_ … Dutch blinks. “What would it take to make you comfortable with it? With the whole situation, I mean?”

Chuck snorts. “Having a different body?”

Dutch rolls his eyes. “I mean for real, man. If you could, like, keep your clothes on, would that do it? Or if you knew everybody in the room thought you were cute? Or would everybody have to be in love with you for you to relax?”

Chuck is staring at him, going red again. “Okay,” he says, squeaking, “let's stick with the realm of theoretically possible, okay? No need to get hallucinatory here.”

“Answer the darn question, Chuck.”

Chuck flails. “I don't know! I guess theoretically if I knew everyone was--but that's just, that's not gonna--”

“Everyone was _what?_ ” Dutch says in exasperation. “Into you, or in love with you?”

“Into me! No one's going to be in _love_ with me, okay?”

“Except Mike,” Dutch corrects him, and Chuck glances away, but it looks like he’s resisting a shy smile.

“Um, so that might help, I guess, and then--but you can't have sex with your clothes on, you'd have to at least open your pants and then you just look _stupid!_ So I don't know, okay? It's just--I'll deal.”

“Okay,” Dutch says, ignoring the irrelevant parts of this, “so if you knew everybody was into you and you kept your clothes on, that'd be better for you.”

“Ahaha except _dude_ , I'm gonna look ridiculous fully dressed when there's sex going on! Texas is definitely going to make fun of me and that's not exactly going to help the--”

“Not if you tell him you won't kiss him if he does,” Dutch says, smug.

Chuck gets a stunned, bewildered look and just sits there for a moment. “You--really? You really think he was serious about that?”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Dutch says.

It takes Chuck a minute to consider that, and then he gives his head a quick shake and says, “Anyway, I'm still going to feel like an idiot.”

“Better or worse than if you had to be naked?”

Chuck hesitates. “Better, I guess,” he admits finally, tugging the hem of his t-shirt between his fingers, folding and rolling it. “Unless everyone's looking at me like I'm pathetic, which I really think you're underestimating the likelihood--”

“Chuck. I know you're not gonna believe me, but I'm gonna say it anyway,” Dutch says. “No one in there is gonna think you're pathetic. If I'm right? We're all gonna be lookin’ at you like a present we wanna unwrap. So, uh, if you do stay dressed, does that mean we gotta keep our hands off, or not?”

Face flushed and eyes round, Chuck looks at him open-mouthed. “Buh--hands off _me?_ But it's--we're--everyone's going to be paying attention to Mike, not me!”

“That depends,” Dutch says. “If it's just you and, say, Julie, yeah, you'll probably both be pretty occupied--” wow don't think about that, Julie and Chuck sharing Mike between them, Julie no doubt cool and collected as ever while Mike and Chuck sweat and moan and--god _don't think about it_ \--he stops to take a breath, hoping his expression doesn't look too weird. “But, uh. If it ends up bein’ all of us? There's only so many people that can reasonably be touchin’ Mike at the same time. So, like, if Texas and Julie are--busy with him…” He stops and shrugs, smiling awkward and hopeful at Chuck. “It'd be kinda cool if we could make out or somethin’, is all.”

“ _Hnngk_ ,” Chuck says, and buries his incredibly red face in his hands.

Overall, Dutch thinks that's probably a good sign. “Also, you never said if I could kiss you or not, after I said I wasn't pushin’ for anything else.”

“Oh my god, Dutch,” Chuck says in a high-pitched sigh, muffled in his hands. He groans and rubs his face before moving his hands to tangle in his hair behind his head. “I don't know, okay?”

Dutch blinks a few times and frowns. Not the response he expected. “Do you want to?” he says cautiously, expecting a shrug or a subtle shift away from him.

Instead Chuck says, “Well, _yeah_ , but.”

“But?” Dutch prompts when he just stops there.

Chuck nibbles on his lip and shoots Dutch a sideways look. “Kissing is kind of a big deal to me,” he mumbles. “So, I just--how serious are you?”

Dutch’s mouth drops open. “Uh. Did you _miss_ where I said I wanted to date you? Because you agreed and I kinda thought you'd remember a detail like that.”

“My memory is not the problem,” Chuck says tightly, “and that's not an answer.”

“It totally is an answer!” Dutch says, exasperated. “What the heck is your problem?”

Chuck gives him a look. “The growing conviction that you're regretting this already.”

“What? No I'm not! I just don't get why you're--”

“Because _this is what I'm like_ , Dutch!” Chuck snaps, cutting him off. “You can't say you want to date me and then be surprised when I keep being _me!_ I'm anxious and twitchy and jumpy and pessimistic and there's a _reason_ I think Mikey’s crazy for wanting to be with me, and a reason I'm pretty sure it won't last long!”

“Pretty sure you're wrong--” Dutch says before Chuck makes a sharp gesture with one hand, eyes fierce, and Dutch shuts up. (Chuck being all angry and commanding should probably not be hot, but dang.)

“I have a tendency to be right about bad stuff,” Chuck says, voice hard and brittle like glass. “Being wrong would make a nice change of pace.” He pauses to take a deep breath and when he lets it out, the fierceness and the tension in his body seeps away, leaving him sagging and tired. “You don't want to date me, because you don't want to repeat yourself ten and twenty times about every good thing you say to me ever. You say you like me? I don't believe you. You had me convinced for a while there, but now it's later and that's worn off. You're not going to repeat yourself three million times about why you're interested in me, that's _stupid_. I'm stupid for needing it. Once should be enough,” he finishes bitterly, and drops his face into his hands.

Dutch considers his options. He feels like a jerk, which means an apology is probably in order, but if he gives it now Chuck’s just going to assume he's sorry for already ducking out on the dating idea. Wait on that a bit.

He puts a hand on Chuck’s hunched back, stroking up and down. “I like you,” he offers, “because for one you're incredibly smart, like, smarter than I am, and lemme tell you man, I am pretty dang smart.”

Chuck lets out a small choked noise that might be some species of startled laugh. Dutch takes this as encouragement.

“You're really fun to bounce ideas off, and I like knowin’ we've got you watchin’ out for us on missions, trackin’ our beacons so no one goes unaccounted for, and I like listenin’ to you talk, you know a lot of interestin’ stuff, and you've got a cute butt--”

Chuck squeaks, apparently taken by surprise. Dutch smirks just slightly.

“Basically I just like you, man. And if you gimme a chance, I'm pretty sure I can get used to tellin’ you stuff as many times as you need. I didn't realize, is all. Didn't mean to be a jerk.”

Chuck sits up, shaking his head quickly. “You're not a jerk, I'm the one who's totally unreasonable, you shouldn't have to--”

“Chuck,” Dutch says, setting a gentle hand on messy blonde hair so he cuts off in startlement. “Chill, man.”

“You know perfectly well I have never been chill in my life.”

“You forgive me?” Dutch says, ignoring this.

Chuck ducks his head and nods.

Dutch drops his voice, trying to ask without being pushy. “You think we could try kissin’?”

Chuck hunches, taking a minute to answer. “You still didn't answer the question about how serious you are about this,” he says reluctantly. “I mean, people date for different reasons, sometimes it's just for fun...” He looks up to catch Dutch’s eye. “You really think you can deal with this?” He waves a hand vaguely. “With _me?_ ”

“Yeah, I do,” Dutch says firmly. “I know you, man. I'm not gonna drop you for bein’ anxious, you just gotta tell me what you need instead of bein’ mad if I get it wrong. You think you can do that?”

“I wasn't mad, I just--” Chuck starts, and cuts himself off. “I--I'll try. It's hard,” he mutters.

“All right. You try, and I'll try to be cool, and we'll figure it out,” Dutch says. He pauses. Chuck is looking hopeful and uncertain at the same time, still watching Dutch. Okay, so that's not quite enough to get him to relax. Keep going.

“I don't really do flings,” he admits. “I wouldn't date someone if I didn't wanna kiss them and hold them and spend time with them. So… it's not just about sex, if you were worried about that. I like you a lot and I want you to be happy. I wanna try this out with you and see if it could work. And you might’ve noticed I'm pretty dang stubborn, so I'm not gonna give up and walk away at the first problem, or the tenth. That answer your question?”

Chuck studies him, chewing on his lip, then nods a few times, jaw firming. He gets up on his knees on the bed, puts a hand on Dutch’s shoulder, and leans in to brush his lips over Dutch’s.

Dutch is kinda afraid to move, or breathe, or hope too hard, for fear of jinxing this or scaring Chuck away, because this is sweet and great and encouraging and he wants _more_. Chuck pulls away and looks him over, smiles a little, and leans in again, and this time he pushes forward and kisses Dutch for real. There's no cautious experimentation, no test and compromise period like with Mike, Chuck just does exactly what he wants and Dutch tries to keep up.

Apparently what Chuck wants is to nip Dutch’s lip and suck on his tongue and press against him until Dutch has a hand on Chuck’s back and one in his hair just to try to balance it out. It doesn't balance, though, because Chuck has a hand at Dutch’s waist, slipping fingertips under the hem of his t-shirt to stroke back and forth over his skin. Dutch isn't sure he realized before that a couple square inches of skin just next to his hip could feel like they were directly wired to his crotch. They definitely feel like that, though; if Chuck keeps that up, Dutch is going to be the one needing a helping hand.

It's almost overwhelming, he's dizzy and hot and exhilarated with Chuck’s touch. After all the hesitation, he'd kind of assumed Chuck would be shy and tentative, not assertive like this, and definitely not really good. Who would've guessed Chuck would be highly skilled at making out?

By the time Chuck pulls back, Dutch is breathing hard and starting to wonder how far he can stretch the definition of a kiss. Chuck hums softly, satisfied, and smiles at him.

“Holy crap, man,” Dutch manages.

Chuck grins a little, pleased and shy, and flicks a screen quickly up and down again. “All right, it's just past five, they're probably done by now, so I can go back to my room and we can try for some more sleep. Since we're going to need it tomorrow. Or, we _might_ need it, depending. _Ngh_ , god,” he finishes in a mutter.

“Sleep,” Dutch says blankly. “Right, yeah.”

Chuck smiles again, bites his lip thoughtfully and leans back in. Dutch meets him eagerly, not questioning the delay before saying goodnight, and Chuck kisses him just as deeply and thoroughly as before. When the kiss breaks, Chuck catches Dutch’s lip in his teeth and tugs gently. Dutch moans, startled and turned on, and Chuck’s eyes glint.

Then he pulls away and stands up. “I'll talk to Mike in the morning and we'll see who gets the next round. Sleep well,” he says, and heads for the door.

Almost completely hard and head spinning with the abrupt turnaround, Dutch doesn't manage words until Chuck has the door open and is stepping out.

“You _dick_ ,” he breathes, open-mouthed and almost grinning.

Chuck stops to give him a look through his bangs and for a second Dutch thinks he's offended--and isn't sure he cares because _what the hell, man?_ Then Chuck smirks. “Not a dick. I think the word you're looking for is ‘tease’. ‘Night, Dutch,” he says, and closes the door.


	5. Burners dating Burners is awesome

Chuck stumbles down to Jacob’s kitchen the next morning and finds Mike sitting at the bar, fully dressed and wolfing down cold pizza. Yellow-eyed and flushed, he looks more than a little uncomfortable, but he definitely needs to keep his strength up with the next round starting already, so it's good that he realized breakfast is a must. Unlike Chuck, whose stomach tied itself in a knot pretty much as soon as Dutch woke him up five minutes ago to go talk to Mike.

He thinks about getting a piece of toast, but it seems like a bad idea, so he just sits down on the stool next to Mike's. Jacob’s location is clear from the _thunk-whack_ of vigorous vegetable chopping and the tuneless humming drifting through the door from the kitchen.

Chuck needs to remember to talk to Jacob when he's done here, find out if he can get hold of bloodroot and passionflower tinctures for Mike. Passionflower is apparently a mild soporific, which wer on the forums reported as useful for calming everything down during a bad round of heat. Bloodroot is supposed to have some kind of arcane resonance with wer, bringing them back into balance if they're acting weird or something’s wrong. Chuck trusts that about as far as he can throw whatever charm-setter made the claim, but he's not about to ignore any leads right now, however weird.

Anyway, that's later. Mike’s first.

“Hey,” Mike says after swallowing a mouthful, and smiles. He looks strained and overheated, but still as happy as always to see Chuck, which loosens the tension holding Chuck’s shoulders around his ears. He manages a smile back that's not too much of a mess and clears his throat.

“H-hey. Um. So, Dutch helped me figure out a new avenue of research last night, and I think I figured out why your heat is doing this and how to fix it.”

“Chuckles, that's awesome!” Mike says, perking up. “Nice work, dude!”

Chuck smiles uncomfortably and runs his fingers through his bangs until they lie more or less in their accustomed screen over his eyes. “Yyyeah, maybe. There's a few catches, though, and I don't know if you're going to like them.”

“Okay,” Mike says. “Run it by me and let's see.”

“Okay,” Chuck says. Leaning both elbows on the bar, he hunches and blows out a long breath. “You're, um, interested in all the Burners. Does that mean you think of all of us as your mates?”

Mike blinks like he's not quite sure what to do with that question, and considers, working through another piece of pizza. “Maybe?” he says cautiously after a few bites. “I mean, I don't really know. I think of you guys as my friends, and you're all important to me...” He rumples his uncombed hair further with one hand. “I'm not sure I think about stuff the way a normal wer would, though. I don't think I'm much good at being wer in the first place… What's the difference between caring about someone and wanting them to be happy and wanting to, like, be close to them, and the way you feel about a mate?”

Chuck opens his mouth and closes it again, frowning. “Maybe nothing? Huh.” He considers for a moment, thinking about wer instincts and how to best clarify things. “Okay, what if, um, this is gonna sound weird but just go with it for a sec, imagine you had another wer in your pack…” Mike nods encouragingly. Chuck takes a breath and finishes, “And they wanted me for their mate?”

Mike's eyes widen, he goes stiff all over, and the rumbling snarl that comes out of him almost startles Chuck off his stool, even though he was half-expecting something like that. Mike cuts himself off, looking equally startled and kind of sheepish.

“Um,” he says, and clears his throat. “Sorry. Didn't mean to, uh. Geez.”

“Okay,” Chuck squeaks, breathless. It should not be hot to have Mike getting all territorial over him, should not be but _absolutely is_. “That seems pretty clear.”

“But I don't--that's not cool!” Mike says, looking distressed. “I'm not gonna be all possessive and stuff, you can be with whoever you want!”

Chuck tilts his head in a ‘more or less’ gesture. “Except for another wer, yeah. Which is _fine_ , Mikey,” he adds as Mike keeps looking dismayed. “I'm not interested in any other wer! Look, it's an instinctual thing, okay? It's not--it's okay, all right? You're not doing anything wrong.”

“It's not cool, though,” Mike protests, dropping the half-finished piece of pizza on his plate. “It makes it seem like I'm tryin’ to control you or something, like I think I've got a right, and I _don't!_ No one does!”

“Dude, that's not--” Chuck starts, and sighs. He's not used to being the one doing the reassuring and it takes a moment to get his head in the right place. “Look, it's obvious you're not trying to control me because you already said I could be with other people. Okay? You're only twitchy about wer. Wer _can_ do polyamory that involves other wer, but it takes some work and everybody being in careful control of their instincts. I bet you _could_ share me if you had to--” Mike's snarl starts up again before he bites it off, “but you don't have to!” Chuck says hastily. “So it's _fine!_ ”

Mike huffs quietly and scrubs the back of his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I'm not used to this. Not used to it being so…” He searches for words for a long moment and finally shrugs, twitching his lips at Chuck in something like a smile.

“You're not used to being so wer,” Chuck suggests. “Not used to it being impossible to push back. You spend all your time being as human as you can, so going wer involuntarily must feel pretty weird.”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “ _Really_ weird.”

“Don't worry, bro,” Chuck says. “We're on it. You'll be okay.”

Mike's smile looks real again. “I know,” he says quietly. “You've got my back.”

Chuck swallows. “Yup! So, um. Looks like you do think of me as a mate, so that's a start. Okay, I know you don't like this particular hypothetical situation, but it seems to work, and we need to know if you think of the others the same way or not.”

Mike sags a little, closing his eyes, then sits up again and nods, tight-lipped. “Okay.”

“Okay, so if the wer wanted Texas for a mate?”

Mike's snarl is a little quieter this time, and cuts off faster, but he was also forewarned.

Maybe Chuck should try a control group, just to be sure he's judging this correctly. “If the wer wanted Jacob for a mate?”

Mike's set expression breaks as he blinks rapidly. “Uh, good for them? Um. So long as, y’know, he was okay with that?”

“We are entertaining purely consensual hypotheticals here,” Chuck says firmly. “And Julie?”

“With… Jacob?” Mike says, bewildered.

“No, as a mate to this other wer.”

Full-throated snarl, wow. Mike breaks it off and digs both hands into his hair, breathing hard. “I don't like--this is makin’ me feel kinda weird, dude.”

“Sorry,” Chuck says, biting his lip. “We just, we really need to know.” He gets off his stool and puts a cautious hand on Mike's back. Mike turns, gets both arms around Chuck and hugs him hard, breathing into his hair. Chuck hugs back after a startled second.

Mike clings to him for long enough to make Chuck feel guilty for messing with his instincts like this. But if Mike can't answer the question himself, they need some way to figure it out. There's only one Burner left anyway.

Mike pulls away finally, gives Chuck a tense not-smile and nods readiness.

Chuck sits back down. “If a wer in your pack wanted Rayon for a mate?”

Mike's eyes widen and his shoulders slump in relief as he laughs. “Um, good luck with that? Not that it--I mean. Uh, the guy's good-looking enough, I guess. But not really my problem.”

“If the wer wanted Dutch for a mate?”

Mike's lips pull back from sharp wolfy teeth in a silent, inhuman snarl, but he makes only a brief rasp of a sound before catching it. Chuck blinks when he realizes that Mike's eyes are tinting greener than they were before, a weird pale feral color.

“Okay,” Chuck says slowly. “It seems safe to say that you think of all of us that way.”

Mike takes a deep breath and rubs his hands over his face like he's trying to push the wer back. “Not Jacob,” he mutters.

Chuck snorts. “The four of us Burners.”

“I guess, yeah. So are we done pretending some jerk’s going to come and steal you guys now?” Mike says plaintively. “Cuz that's not a fun game.”

Chuck hunches, trying to shove down his guilt. “Sorry, dude. We, um, we needed to know because your mate or mates are how you fix the issue with your heat. We can get it to stop coming back so fast, get the intensity down so… so it can be more fun for everyone, less like a four-day marathon.”

Mike looks up with wide eyes gone plain yellow again. “Seriously?”

“I think so, yeah.” Chuck swallows. “The catch is, you have to sleep with us. All. At the same time.”

Mike's eyes shift and unfocus slightly. Chuck watches as his pupils expand.

“Whoa,” Mike says. “Oh… kay. Wow.”

Eyebrows raised, Chuck waits to see how long it takes him to get past whatever scene he's imagining so vividly and return to the conversation. It's a minute or two, and he's definitely more flushed when he shakes himself out of it and blinks at Chuck.

“Uh. Wow,” he says again, and grins. “That sounds _awesome_.”

Chuck nods unenthusiastically, managing not to roll his eyes or say anything sarcastic. “Good. So we've just gotta get Julie and Texas caught up, and--”

“Oh,” Mike says suddenly, grin falling away. “But they have to agree. _You_ have to agree. And you don't really look like you're into this, buddy.”

Chuck groans and drops his face into his hands. “Look, I already had this talk with Dutch last night, can we just skip it this time? I agree, okay? It'll make everyone's lives easier and I'll be _fine_.”

“Yeah?” Mike doesn't sound reassured. “But you've got that thing about taking your clothes off where anyone else can see. Is that gonna be okay?”

“Dutch had an idea about that,” Chuck mumbles. “But it's probably not going to work because it's dumb.”

Mike pauses, taken aback. “I'm not gonna say that all Dutch’s ideas are genius, because they're not, but if he thought it was worth mentioning to you, it's probably not dumb, dude. It's not like you to be down on him--are you guys okay?”

“He wants to date me,” Chuck blurts out for no apparent reason.

Mike brightens. “He told you? What’d you say?”

“He told _you?_ ”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And… you're okay with that?”

“Chuckles, you knew that already,” Mike says, mildly reproving. “I'm okay with you dating whoever you want, especially another Burner! Burners dating Burners is awesome, you guys should _all_ date each other. Uh. I mean.” He shifts on his stool. “Not _should_ , just, it'd be cool if you did.”

Chuck purses his lips, considering Mike's awkward smile as he goes back to eating. Is this a wer thing, this desire to keep relationships within the pack? No, that doesn't make sense, since as far as Chuck knows most packs are based around an extended family. Instinct probably wouldn't urge you to mate within the family. So this is just a weird Mike thing.

Like many Mike things, the idea is cute and annoyingly attractive, the Burners all dating. (Is Texas actually interested in Chuck? No, don't think about it.) Unfortunately, just because it's an appealing concept doesn't mean it has any basis in reality.

Except for one part, apparently. “I said yes,” he says, biting his lip not to smile like a dope.

“Hah, that's awesome!” Mike says, leaning over to throw an arm around Chuck and squeeze him. He's grinning so it lights his entire face. It's hard to breathe, looking at him, and Chuck keeps looking anyway.

“Man, that's so great,” Mike says. “He really likes you, I'm glad you like him too.” His grin softens, and Chuck notices all over again how flushed his cheeks are, how red his lips look, how his hair is rumpled and way messier than simple bedhead, like--well, like people were putting their hands in it all night. It's... distracting.

Something must show in his face, because Mike's lips part and his eyes widen before he suddenly goes still. “Oh,” he says, and pulls back. “We can't--you wanted to go on a date first. So we've gotta wait, I can't just--”

“Julie can't stay much longer,” Chuck cuts him off. “If we want to fix this, we've got to do it now. I can get my date later, and so can Texas, it's not a big deal.” Mike opens his mouth to protest, but Chuck keeps talking. “Since your next round’s already started, we can just--get everybody together and. Do that. As soon as, uh, everybody's ready.”

“Assuming everyone _agrees_ ,” Mike points out. “Because if even one person doesn't want to do this, we are not making them, I don't care if I have to sit the rest of this out on my own. We're not pushing anyone into this.”

“Mike, of course not!” Chuck says, exasperated. “What do you take me for? We're _asking_ everybody, if they don't want to they'll just tell us. Tell Dutch, I mean, he's the one talking to Julie and Texas. Or he will as soon as I let him know, hang on.”

Chuck sends Dutch a quick line of text, _Its evr1. Mikes RLY SRS re the pushing/consent thing, u were right, b careful n check w them, k?_

Mike swallows the last bite of pizza and sighs. “I know you guys wouldn't do anything bad, that's not what I meant. It's just--I dunno. I'm all twitchy about it.”

“I know, dude. Just try to relax a little, okay? Trust us. We don't want anybody to get hurt any more than you do.”

“Yeah…” Mike runs a hand through his hair, staring at the crumbs on his plate. “I guess… I was worried about maybe pushing you guys faster than you wanted to go before, when it was just me. This is a whole different thing, though, it's kind of--worse? I mean, you guys aren't all dating each other, so some of you might be uncomfortable, but people might not want to say no because everyone wants to help, and--god. It's kind of a mess.”

“It'll be fine,” Chuck says, distracted by a screen flicking up with the return message from Dutch: _I think I deciphered that but why the heck you gotta do all those weird abbreviations man? I'm not one of your techie buddies from up there ok geez. Also DUH I'm gonna be careful. I'll go break the news._ Chuck shakes his head a little and shoots back _Nthng wrong w my txts f u_.

“I know it's weird,” he says, looking over again at the dismay on Mike's face. “But Dutch is gonna be really careful talking to the others, it's not like he's gonna pressure anyone into it.”

“I'm not sure he needs to,” Mike says. “The situation’s enough pressure all by itself. I mean, dude, can you really tell me that you’d feel free to say no, you're not up for this right now, if it was… something you didn't want to do, that might hurt you?”

He's being careful to phrase it hypothetically, but from the way he's focused on Chuck he knows perfectly well it might not be hypothetical at all. And the thing is, Chuck is pretty unnerved about this whole prospect, yeah, of course he is. The number of ways things could go wrong, or even mostly right as far as everyone else is concerned and just wrong for him in particular, are legion.

But he's used to being terrified, there's nothing noteworthy about it. It's not a factor to judge possible choices by. Sure he might get hurt, Julie might ignore him or Texas might make fun of him for being skinny or for keeping his clothes on, and Chuck will laugh uncomfortably and be miserable for a while, but who cares? Compared to making Mike and Dutch suffer for the next few days, it's not important.

Besides, even if it's terrifying, the idea of having everybody naked together is still sort of… um. Attractive. If he lets himself thinks about it. Because Chuck isn't fooling himself that he's ever likely to get Julie or Texas naked on his own account, so he'll take what he can get, even if it scares the pants off--on, scares the pants back on him.

No, he doesn't feel free to say no, but he’d be saying yes even if he did.

That being the case, he says firmly, “Yes. If I couldn't do this, or I thought it was gonna wreck me or something, I'd say no.” Well, he might if it really looked bad, since Dutch would probably be pissed at him if he had a panic attack in the middle of things. So it's not a complete lie. “But I'm not going to. I can do this, Mikey.”

Mike studies him uncertainly, nostrils flaring as he breathes in whatever scent Chuck is putting out. Then he nods, relaxing a little. “Okay. I'm trusting you to take care of yourself and not try to tough anything out, though, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “I can. Don't worry, bro, I'll be careful.” As careful as he reasonably can be, anyway.

Mike lets out a long breath. “Okay. And Dutch is gonna make sure Jules and Tex are really okay with it--wait. What about Dutch? Is he cool with this?”

Chuck snorts. “Are you kidding? He's all excited. He didn't even hesitate when I told him about it, he got this dazed kind of smile, you know, like when Tennie kisses him? Except less ‘I am overwhelmed by fuzzy cute feelings’ and more ‘I am about to overload and short out with intrigued lust’.”

Mike grins. “Think you're getting him confused with you.”

Chuck pulls his lips to one side in annoyance. “I don't short out,” he mutters.

Mike tilts his head to one side and back like a shrug. “Guess I'll find out soon,” he says, and slides off his stool. “Looking forward to it,” he says in a lower voice, eyes warm and intent on Chuck’s face.

“Aha, ahaha yeah,” Chuck squeaks, and hates himself a little more.

Mike grins again and claps him on the shoulder. “I'm gonna get a shower, before, uh, whatever’s gonna happen happens,” he says, and heads for the stairs.

Chuck puts his head in his hands and groans quietly once Mike is out of earshot. God, this is going to be so weird even if it goes well, which it's not going to because when has Chuck’s life ever gone like that? 

And he's still got to ask about those tinctures. Breathing out, he goes to talk to Jacob.

*

Texas's door is closed, so he's probably still asleep, and Dutch is happy for the excuse to put off talking to him even if it means he has to face Julie first. Her door is open, so Dutch swallows and knocks on the frame.

“Hey,” he says.

“Dutch,” she says, stepping into view. “You ready to explain why I can't leave yet?”

“Yeah, I can do that now. Um, can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah,” she says, and moves to clear off a chair.

“Don't worry about that, this shouldn't take long,” he says hastily, and she shrugs and leaves off. He steps in and leans on the doorframe, glancing around. Her room isn't quite as messy as Dutch’s, but it's not exactly neat. Clothes in dark, non-Deluxian colors are scattered over the chair and the top of her dresser along with her collection of Cool Stuff, which has all kinds of odd things Julie’s found down here and can't take up to her pod. These include a mutant rat skull, pieces of mica and other cool rocks, a warped and twisted piece of rusty metal, and sitting on the corner of her desk, an ancient ship’s bell that she found on the lakeshore.

Dutch looks back at Julie, dressed for the day, neatly brushed and with her lipstick on. She had the same sharp-eyed look last night, when she was a cute just-woken mess.

Attempting a smile, he does his best to explain the situation as clearly and concisely as possible. At least, he goes for concise before realizing that clear got left out and having to rephrase. “ _Anyway_ ,” he says finally, “it turns out we're all his mates, so to fix it we'd all have to, uh, join in. But Mike's already worried about us bein’ coerced, and he's even more worried now, so we gotta make real sure that this is actually, y’know, okay with all of us. So. Yeah.”

Julie stands by the bed with her arms crossed, expression unreadable. “What exactly does it mean to ‘fix’ his heat? What are you expecting to happen?”

“The time between rounds should get longer, like not by an hour, although good job with that--” Julie smiles slightly and Dutch keeps going, “--we're hoping for more like seven or eight hours instead of four or five. And his rounds should get less intense, too. It's way amped up right now and this oughta bring it down some.”

Julie nods. “And that seems like a likely outcome?”

“Well…” Dutch frowns. “Chuck said everybody on the forum agreed that wer with this issue needed to sleep with their mate to get their heat more normal. The complicatin’ factor is the whole poly thing, I guess. Chuck only found one example of another poly wer, but sleepin’ with both mates at once fixed it for him, so… It's not a big sample size,” Dutch admits. “But it does seem like a pretty good bet.”

Julie considers that silently. “And in order to get there, all four of us have to have sex with him at once? You said ‘both’, so the other guy only had two mates; four is another complication. Do we all have to be touching him at the same time? Or is it enough to be in the room?”

“Uh,” Dutch says, boggling. “I got no clue, honestly. Chuck was mutterin’ about wer instincts, so maybe--we let Mike set us up how he likes? Cuz if it feels right to him, that's probably a good sign. Yeah?”

Julie nods again and her shoulders drop a bit, some of the tension leaving her stance. She trusts Mike, even if she's obviously not sure about this. Dutch watches as she thinks for a few minutes, finally giving him a small smile.

“We're going to need to establish ground rules,” she says. “For instance, even though we're all there for Mike, some of us might be tempted to get handsy on someone else. We need to make sure everyone's on the same page so no one has to get punched in the face.”

“Oh yeah, agreed!” Dutch says fervently. “How about, we all gotta ask before touchin’ anyone but Mike?”

“Yeah. ‘Chuck, can I kiss you,’ for example,” she says, and smiles at Dutch.

“Uh. Yeah. For a totally random example.” What the heck, is the girl telepathic? Or was that hypothetical question on her own behalf?

“Good. Maybe I'll talk with Chuck, see if we can come up with any more rules before this thing gets started.” Julie narrows her eyes at the wall, then nods to herself and looks back at Dutch. “Thanks for giving me the rundown.”

“Hey, no problem. Uh. You're really gonna be okay with this?”

She cocks her head at him. “I'm not exactly thrilled about it, but I know you and Chuck will behave yourselves, so as long as we can keep Texas under control, I can deal.” She pauses. “I'm more worried about Chuck. He's going to need reassurance, and Mike's going to be occupied. Think you and I can trade off on Chuck maintenance?”

Dutch sighs. “He said pretty much the same thing as you, that he'll deal, but yeah, I think you're right. We can definitely do that, and also, uh.” Okay, this is kinda awkward to say to her, but he has to try. “He doesn't think you and Texas are, uh, into him. He's not happy about doin’ this thing cuz he thinks he's, like, ugly or somethin’, and he assumes everybody else agrees. So if you are into him, maybe you could tell him you think he's good-lookin’? Or, y’know, whatever.”

Julie gives him a cool look. “What did _you_ tell him?”

...Yeah, that's fair. Dutch shrugs one shoulder. “That I like him and think he's cute and kinda want to date him.” A shy smile breaks free. “Then he said yes.”

Julie laughs a little and shakes her head. “Congratulations,” she says dryly. “You think I'd be as lucky?”

Dutch blinks, taken aback to hear her admit uncertainty, even by implication. “Yeah? I mean, I had no clue he was interested in me, but then when I asked him out he said he was, so--seems likely?”

Julie gets an arrested expression, then smiles slowly. “I guess if he wants all of us, it'd explain why he flipped out when I asked if anyone wanted everyone in the room. Lucky for him he's so darn likeable.”

Dutch nods in full agreement, then remembers the other detail. “Oh, and he might also want to keep his clothes on. I said if it'll keep him from freakin’ out, whatever works, so, uh, you think that's gonna work for you?”

Julie’s eyes narrow and her lips part. “Oh, that's… an idea. Technically, even though we're having sex, being naked shouldn't be necessary--right?”

Dutch shrugs. “I guess not?”

“So, we can keep on as much clothing as seems doable. That might actually… yeah. Good. Thanks.”

“Will that help?”

“I think it might.”

“Well, good!” Dutch says, relieved. The more comfortable everybody else is, the happier Mike will be and the more fun everyone will have.

“Is that everything? How soon are we doing this?”

“I guess as soon as everyone's caught up? Although--sounds like somebody just started a shower upstairs, so I guess we'll have to wait until they're done. Anyway, I better go talk to Texas.”

“Good luck,” Julie says dryly, and Dutch nods and leaves.

Texas is apparently dozing by now rather than actually asleep, because when Dutch knocks on the door he doesn't have to progress to pounding and yelling before Texas wakes up.

“ _Mmwha’?_ ” comes the grumble from within.

“Gotta talk to you,” says Dutch. “It's about Mike.”

“ _Mmgh_. C’min.”

Steeling himself, Dutch steps in, closing the door behind him because yeah, the blankets are shoved down to Texas's hips and he's definitely not wearing anything under them. Dutch sighs to himself and moves a set of weights off Texas's chair to sit down. This might take a while.

“Okay, man, here's the deal,” he starts, and explains it all. Keeping in mind that Texas just woke up, he goes for clarity instead of conciseness this time, focusing on the basic facts and leaving out the various details Julie pressed him about. “...and you're one of his mates, all of us are, so we have to figure out if we can do this thing, like, if all of us are gonna be okay with that.”

Texas’s black hair is falling over his face, and he shoves it back with one hand as he leans up on his elbows. He's staring at Dutch, mouth open as he processes all this. Dutch tries not to let his own eyes stray too far down that expanse of broad back. The blankets don't come up high enough to hide the place his back dips and swells into his butt. Texas has a really nice butt, but Dutch is not here to stare at it.

“Whoa,” Texas says. “That's a pile of mates. You sure it's gotta be all at once? Tiny’s gettin’ greedy.”

“Yeah, it does, and no he's not,” Dutch says. “If anything, it's his heat that's greedy, and that ain't his fault. What you gotta think about is how you feel about havin’ sex with Mike while the rest of us are there, and bein’ there while we have sex with him.”

Texas blinks. “Uh,” he says. “Oh.”

Dutch’s lips part before he presses them closed again. Texas is blushing. Holy crap. Second time in two days, this is awesome. He blushes really differently from Chuck, just across his cheeks and nose, and Dutch isn't used to it like he kind of is to Chuck going red anytime he's flustered or embarrassed. It's probably the novelty that makes Texas’s blush seem really hot right now.

Texas rolls over and sits up, blankets remaining more or less in place at his waist. He scratches one shoulder, then his ribs, staring at the movie poster on his wall, which shows a man jump-kicking a T-rex in the nose while something explodes behind them.

“So, like, Jes--uh--Julie’s gonna be there? And Chuck? And you, _and_ Tiny?”

“Yeah,” Dutch says, forbearing to make any remarks about _Well, I said all of us, and you just named all of us, so what do you think?_ This is a weird situation, he can cut the guy some slack.

“All havin’ sex?”

“That's the idea,” Dutch says in a dry tone, and Texas slides him a sideways look.

“With each other, or just with Tiny?”

Dutch says firmly, “Just with Mike. Unless, like, you ask someone and they say yes. That's another thing, though, you gotta ask before touchin’ anyone besides Mike. You think you can manage that?”

Texas crosses his arms, bristling. “Texas don't touch people who don't want touchin’!”

“I didn't say you were gonna, man, you just don't always manage that whole _askin’_ thing,” Dutch points out. “So, like, you wanna kiss Chuck, you gotta ask him if you can first.”

Texas nods. “And then he oughta say yes, cuz Texas is awesome at kissin’!”

Dutch has to pinch his lips together to keep from saying ‘No, _Chuck_ is awesome at kissing’. Probably Chuck would prefer that he not go kissing and telling, no matter how flattering the telling is to Chuck’s skills.

“Tiny’s gonna say yes, cuz he’s in heat,” Texas goes on, beginning to frown. “And J-Julie oughta say yes, and so should you.”

Dutch’s eyebrows go up. He was not expecting to be on Texas's list of people to kiss. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Texas says with certainty, nodding, and throws back the covers to hop out of bed. _Jeez_ , the guy's got muscles _everywhere_.

Dutch wrenches his eyes away and stares at the ceiling, groaning. “Texas, what have we discussed about _clothes_ , man?”

“Gotta keep all this awesome under wraps so people don't get distracted,” Texas says promptly, wandering over to rummage through a pile of clothing that might hide a side table somewhere underneath. Dutch glances at him just as Texas bends over to pick his jumpsuit up off the floor, and _okay_ it's a beautiful full moon today let's examine the ceiling some more.

“But Texas doesn't keep clothes in bed,” Texas goes on, “so he's gotta get up to get dressed. Oh. Hang on, we're just gonna go have sex, though. Should Texas--”

“If you want anything to eat first,” Dutch says without looking down, “then yeah you better get dressed. Jacob does not want to see your junk.”

“Heck yes, Texas has to fuel up to blow everybody's minds!”

Dutch rolls his eyes, listening to the reassuring rustle of cloth. “Right. Oh, also, Chuck and Julie are probably gonna keep some clothes on, cuz they'll be more comfortable that way. If you want a chance at kisses, you better not make them feel weird about it.”

The rustling stops and Dutch dares to glance down. Texas has his jumpsuit half on, standing bare-chested with an undershirt in one hand, frowning at Dutch.

“You can't have sex with your clothes on, it gets in the way! How's Texas supposed to blow their minds with his incredible sex skills if they won't get naked?”

“Pretty sure if they're interested, they'll work something out,” Dutch drawls. “Besides, they're gonna be having sex with Mike anyway. It is possible, ‘s just a little different.”

Texas considers this, scowling.

“Plus, you don't know yet if they're gonna agree to have sex with you or not. Remember, you gotta ask first.”

“Yeah, you said,” Texas grumbles. “But. What if they say no?”

“Then that's their right, man. You gonna respect it?”

Texas glares at Dutch, crossing his arms, but he almost looks more hurt than mad. “Chyeah! Texas doesn't touch nobody who doesn't want touching! I _said!_ ”

“Yeah, you did,” Dutch agrees, feeling a little bad for assuming otherwise. “That's cool, man. That's good.”

Texas huffs and drags the undershirt over his head, pulling it down tight over all those ridiculous muscles before he gets his jumpsuit on the rest of the way. “Texas wants kisses,” he mutters.

“Man, if you tell Chuck you like him and you think he's sexy, and don't give him a hard time about stayin’ dressed, I am pretty dang sure he'll agree to kiss you.” And then he'll be the one doing the mind-blowing, Dutch doesn't say.

“Oh,” Texas says, perking up. “Yeah, ‘course he will! Uh, what about Jen--uh, Julie?”

“Dunno about her,” Dutch admits.

Texas scowls, picks up his baseball cap and pulls it on. He steps over in front of Dutch and stares down at him. “An’ what about you?”

Does it make Dutch a bad person that he's enjoying this? Probably. He crosses his arms and raises his eyebrows at Texas anyway. “Maybe. Guess you better ask and find out.”

Texas tugs the brim of his cap lower and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He clears his throat. “Yeah. ‘Kay. Uh, you can kiss Texas if you wanna,” he offers.

Dutch snorts. “Texas, that’s not the same as _askin’_ someone if they--you know what? Never mind.” He stands up, flicks the cap off Texas’s head, ignoring the indignant look, and leans down to kiss Texas hard and--not exactly mean. He just wants Texas to stay kissed, is all, and maybe be a little less of a loudmouthed jerk for five minutes. So he's forceful about it, pushy, and at first it seems to work. Texas kinda grunts into his mouth in shock and doesn't seem to know how to respond. He flails a little, gets his hands on Dutch’s shoulders.

Then he gets his feet under him and starts fighting back, and ten seconds later Dutch has to pull away and snap, “Dang it, Texas, this ain't a darn tongue wrestlin’ competition! Cut it out!”

Panting a little, Texas gives him a sulky look. “You started it,” he mutters. His hands flex on Dutch’s shoulders, but show no sign of wanting to let go.

...Yeah, well, maybe Dutch did start it, and maybe Texas is still a jerk. He huffs and leans back down, and this kiss is pointedly gentler on his end. He growls into it when Texas seems inclined to start wrestling again, and after a bit of nonverbal negotiation and argument they work things out.

Texas is not actually as bad at kissing as Dutch would've assumed. He's not as slyly skillful as Chuck, but--y’know, passable. Good enough.

Eventually Dutch remembers what else is going on this morning and pulls back, taking one hand off Texas’s butt and the other out of his hair. Texas makes a complaining noise and doesn't let go of Dutch’s hips until Dutch steps back.

“Anyway,” Dutch says, and clears his throat. “Uh, breakfast.”

Texas perks up immediately, grabbing his hat off the floor. “Right! We can do more kissin’ later, right now Texas has gotta go chow down and Texasify his stamina!”

He claps Dutch on the shoulder and is out the door. Dutch huffs a sigh and follows.

*

Julie puts together a hefty breakfast sandwich and sits down at the diner bar next to Chuck. “How's it going?” she says, and starts eating.

“Oh, haha, you know,” Chuck says, hunching self-consciously. He's got a screen up, and from the way he's scrolling she's pretty sure he's reading through more forum threads.

“Mm,” Julie says, and eats half her sandwich before trying again. “Dutch says you plan to keep some clothes on.” Chuck sort of freezes and she hurries on before his brain can do anything bad with that. “Sounds smart to me, I think I'll join you.”

It's another few seconds before he unfreezes and cautiously turns to her. “You… yeah? Well, cool! Um. How come?”

“Because if Texas grabs my boobs without permission, I'm going to punch him in the junk, and I'd rather not have to. I figure, the less I show, the less temptation he has.”

Chuck’s mouth opens, then closes. He swallows and nods and ducks back to his screen.

Crap, that wasn't meant to come off as a threat to Chuck. Julie stuffs another bite of sandwich in her mouth and considers her next approach.

“Speaking of permission,” she says after a few more minutes, “I thought some ground rules might be useful. Dutch suggested that we all ask permission to touch anyone besides Mike. Can you think of anything else?”

“That one sounds good,” Chuck says. “Um. Nobody monopolizes Mike? Everyone gets equal time.”

Julie nods. “Good idea.”

Chuck smiles a bit, nibbles his lip. “Don't be a jerk?”

“Hmm. Needs clarification. How about, no commenting on the way anyone else looks or acts unless it's to say something nice?”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, sounding relieved. “That works.” He sags a little. “Not that Texas usually pays attention to stuff like that.”

“Oh, he might when there's makeouts at stake,” Julie says, and takes another bite.

“With you, yeah. He's not going to care enough to not say stuff about _me_ ,” Chuck says glumly.

Julie tries to make a dubious noise through a massive chunk of sandwich, almost chokes, and has to drink half a glass of water to help her swallow. “ _Chuck_ ,” she says in exasperation when she comes up for air. “Texas wants to touch your butt, okay? And the rest of you, I'm pretty sure. He straight out asked you to kiss him, remember? How exactly do you get that to mean anything else?”

“Easy!” Chuck says, waving his hands and causing his screen to blip out. “It's _me!_ Texas isn't interested in me, he thinks I'm a pathetic wimp!”

“It sure does seem dumb to constantly tease and insult someone you've got a crush on,” Julie sort-of agrees. “About as dumb as constantly pretending to forget your crush’s name.” She cocks her head and looks Chuck right in the bangs.

“That's different!”

Julie rolls her eyes. “Because it's me and not you? Chuck, you're really cute and people want to smooch you. You're going to have to deal with that.”

“Nnno,” he says, voice squeaking, “I don't think I do, because all LARPing aside, I mostly deal with reality, and that really really does not count as--uh. Julie? Wha-- _”_

Sometimes, she reflects as she drags Chuck’s face down within reach, being surrounded by towering boys is really annoying. She kisses him firmly, close-lipped except for a parting flick of her tongue across his lower lip, and pulls back.

“Reality, Chuck. Deal with it.”

Holy crap he flushes up fast. Bright red and open-mouthed, he just sits there as she gets back on her stool.

“I realize I just broke rule one,” she says, “but I'm pretty sure you would've spent the next ten minutes refusing to believe that I was serious, so I thought I'd just prove it to start with.”

Chuck makes an incoherent sort of croaking noise.

Julie eats the last of her sandwich, eyeing him. “Was that okay?” she says when she's done. She's almost sure that if he hadn't been interested, the blushing would have less of a stunned component and more of an uncomfortable twitchy one, but it's hard to tell with Chuck sometimes.

He gives a jerky but emphatic nod.

Julie lets out her breath and smiles at him, the tension in her stomach dissolving. “Good. Any questions?”

“ _So_ many questions, oh my god,” Chuck says, voice high. “Like, um, what? Why? Let's go with why, first. Why would you be--I mean, I thought Dutch was delusional, there's no way you actually--haha, uh. Right?”

Julie raises her eyebrows. “I _think_ I can fill in those blanks. Why do I like you, you mean?”

Chuck nods.

Julie shrugs. “Why does anyone like someone? Why do you like Mike?”

“Tons of reasons!” Chuck objects. “He's fun and nice and--all heroic and brave and stuff, and--”

“He's Mike,” Julie sums up.

Chuck hesitates, then nods.

“You like everything about him, but it's not because he's a certain way. It's because he's _him_.”

“Yeah,” Chuck says. “I guess. But… there's still a bunch of things I like about him.”

“Well, sure,” Julie says. “I can tell you things I like about you, but I can't tell you _why_ I like you. I like you because you're Chuck.”

Chuck’s mouth hangs open for a moment as his fading blush darkens again. Then he swallows and says, “That makes a lot less sense than liking Mike.”

“Well, Dutch doesn't think so, and neither does Mike. They both like you, and so do I. Looks like your opinion is the odd one out here.”

Chuck sits there for a moment, lets out a strained, breathless giggle, and buries his face in his hands. Shoulders hunched, he's curled into himself, breathing a little too fast, and Julie is suddenly worried. She doesn't really understand Chuck’s issues with himself, so she can't be sure what he's freaking out about, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

“You okay?” she tries.

“Oh, fine! This does not make any fucking sense, it's not how things work, either I'm hallucinating or someone is messing with me or something is about to go horribly wrong--”

“Just because people like you?” Julie says, dubious.

Chuck slaps his hands on the counter as he straightens, turning to her. “ _Three people_ like me, as in want to kiss or date me or s-something, and that's _not normal_. It doesn't make sense. All of you at the same time, and it's just, it's not plausible, okay?”

Julie frowns at him. “What's plausibility got to do with it? The Duke’s not plausible, but he still exists.”

Chuck gives a startled snort.

Julie purses her lips. “Is it plausible that all of us have a thing for Mike, and he likes all of us?”

“I--yeah, because, we all know him, so of course we like him, and he's got all those wer pack-forming instincts, so that's probably why he likes us back…”

“Why do you like Dutch and Mike and me?” He hasn't actually said yet that he likes her, exactly, but there isn't room in this conversation for _two_ people being anxious and insecure.

Chuck stammers a little before managing, “You're all really cool, and brave, and hot, and… I mean, it's kind of different for each of you…”

Julie can't help smiling, but she ignores the warmth of the relief spreading through her to go on, “And we all know you, so we like you. It's just as plausible as all of us liking Mike.”

“It's really not--”

“Objectively speaking, it is,” she says firmly.

“Oh, of course, because you're so objective.”

“I'm a heck of a lot more objective about this than you,” she says, unperturbed by the snark.

Chuck snorts and puts his hands over his face again. “Okay,” he mutters. “Okay, I'm just going to--to pretend the world still makes sense and I understand anything, and just. Go with it. That's like, the sensible, mature thing to do. So.” He takes a deep breath and drops his hands, head still low. “If for some reason--no, that's the wrong way to say it. Since you--you say you--s-since--” His voice cuts off entirely and he's left mouthing half-started words.

Julie reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Since I like you? Is that where you were going?”

Chuck nods, breathing carefully. “What, um, what are you loo--interested in,” he says after a moment. “With… with me.”

“Fun? Hanging out? Movies, sex, making out, talking--just, stuff,” Julie says, shrugging. “I'd like to do stuff with you. I'm not picky what.”

“So, like, an ongoing thing,” Chuck says, and Julie frowns at him.

“Yeah, of course. If I was only looking for a temporary thing, this conversation would've gone a lot different.”

“Oh,” Chuck says.

Julie waits for something more and pinches her lips when nothing seems to be forthcoming. “So, does that sound good, or what?”

Chuck’s mouth opens and just hangs there a minute before he can answer. “Uh, _yeah_ \--what, am I crazy? Wha--why would I argue with any of that?! I mean, you're going to change your mind in a day or two, probably, but I'm definitely ohhh my god,” he finishes as she hops off her stool and reaches to tug his head down again.

She's startled but very pleased to learn that Chuck, when not stunned into immobility, is quite skillful at kissing. She is less pleased when a voice comes from behind, saying:

“Whoa, is it makeouts for breakfast? Awesome, Texas can cook up a hot serving of love for everybody!”

Chuck jerks away from the kiss with an alarmed squeak. Julie pulls in a breath through her nose and reminds herself that sometimes she _likes_ Texas, and more importantly, Mike likes Texas, and hurting him would make Mike sad.

“Texas,” sighs Dutch, coming in behind him, “that's not--no, you know what? Forget it. Is Jacob around?”

“I didn't see him,” Julie volunteers. Under his baseball cap, Texas’s hair looks ungelled and uncombed. Dutch, on the other hand, clearly took a little time at some point this morning to tend to his ‘fro, which looked slightly squashed when Julie woke him up earlier.

“Jacob’s off making deliveries,” Chuck says, hunched into himself again. “And looking for some stuff to help Mike.”

“Cool, no kale porridge. I'm gonna go get food,” Dutch says, and starts for the kitchen.

“Hey, great, you can grab me somethin’ too,” Texas says, leaning casually on the bar next to Julie.

“Can, but won't,” Dutch says over his shoulder. “Grab your own dang breakfast.”

Texas pouts briefly after him, then turns to Julie. “Hey _Julie_ ,” he says carefully, “look at this!” He flexes.

Julie sighs. “Look at that, all the same muscles you had yesterday. Good work, Texas.”

He puffs up, oblivious to any sarcasm. “Yeah! It's really impressive, right? Just makes you wanna fall into Texas’s big, manly arms and kiss him a lot, doesn't it!”

Well, that removes any lingering doubts she might have had that he's interested. “Not really,” Julie says. He's been obnoxious too often for her to want to make it easy for him.

“Dude,” Chuck says. “Flexing has never worked before, why do you think it's going to work now?”

“Well, _something’s_ got to!” Texas says. “She said so!”

“No, she _said_ if you wanted to have any chance, you had to call her by her name!” Chuck says. “That's not actually the same as saying she'll kiss you or anything.”

Texas scowls past Julie at Chuck. Then he looks at Julie, pulling his mouth to one side. She meets his gaze levelly and waits. He sucks in a long breath, broad chest expanding.

“Hey,” he says. “Uh.” His voice drops. “You wanna maybe kiss Texas?”

That's better than she was expecting. She tilts her head, watching him for a moment. “Maybe,” she says. “But not right now.” If he gets pushy, her answer’s going to change to a flat no.

“Not now, but later?” he says immediately. “Like when we're all doing junk with Mike?”

“Maybe,” Julie says again.

And instead of protesting the lack of a definite answer, Texas nods in satisfaction. “Cool.” Maybe he's just assuming that means yes. Either way, Julie didn't expect this to go so well, and is pleasantly surprised.

Texas pushes off the bar and steps around Julie to face Chuck. “So how ‘bout you?”

Chuck crosses his arms and Julie can't tell if he's being belligerent or defensive. “What about me?”

Texas folds his own, considerably thicker arms. “Kissin’ Texas. Do you wanna.”

Chuck’s mouth twists. “And then if I say yes you're gonna laugh and say too bad. I've seen this show before.”

Julie sighs and Texas’s mouth drops open. “Huh?” he says. “Nuh-uh!”

“Chuck, he wanted you to kiss him yesterday, too,” Julie reminds him. “It definitely happened, I remember.”

“Yeah, and he was _joking!_ ” Chuck says.

“What the heck?” Texas says, arms coming uncrossed. “Texas doesn't joke about that! Kissin’ is serious, and Texas wants kisses!”

“Yeah, okay, but why would you want kisses from _me?_ ” Chuck demands. “You think I'm a pa-- _ffmmp!_ ” he says indignantly as Julie reaches out and puts her hand over his mouth.

“Why don't we let Texas tell you what he thinks, instead of you telling him,” she says. “Tex, why _do_ you want to kiss Chuck?”

Dutch comes out of the kitchen with some melted cheese on toast just in time to hear this last, and raises his eyebrows with interest.

Texas crosses his arms again, scowling uncomfortably. “Cuz,” he mumbles, and Chuck rolls his eyes.

Dutch snorts, sitting down. “That's not gonna get you very far. You have to tell him what you like about him if you want to convince him.”

“Huh,” Texas says, and rolls his shoulders like it'll help him think.

Julie pulls her hand off Chuck’s mouth, strokes once along his jaw, and enjoys the renewed tinge of pink in his cheeks as she sits back to spectate.

“You're really tall,” Texas says abruptly. “Texas kinda likes the tall.”

“Dutch is taller than I am,” Chuck objects, and Julie rolls her eyes up to the ceiling.

“Uh, yeah, about that,” Dutch says. “We, uh, already had our test run. So, all yours.”

Julie gives him an approving grin as Chuck makes a flabbergasted noise.

“Buh--seriously?!”

“Yup,” Texas says. “Swept him off his feet with my awesome kissin’ skills.”

Dutch snorts and takes a bite of toast. “Yeah, that's definitely what happened,” he says around it.

“You oughta try it!” Texas finishes.

Chuck looks at him a moment, mouth slightly open, then closes it. “I'm not convinced yet. Keep talking.”

“Uh. ‘Bout what?”

“You can't want to kiss me just because I'm tall. Everyone's taller than you,” Chuck points out with a complete lack of tact. Julie bites back a snicker.

Texas bristles. “Hey! Are not!”

“Texas, if you want a kiss you have to focus,” Julie says.

“Texas ain't short,” Texas mutters. “Ain't Texas’s fault everybody but Je-Julie’s all huge and tall and junk.” He swings his arms, rolls his shoulders, and puffs out his cheeks, breathing out. “I dunno, I just do!” he explodes. “Texas knows when he wants to kiss somebody, okay? Texas thinks you're hot, and he likes you, and he wants to kiss you! So--can I kiss you or what?” he finishes belligerently.

Chuck’s mouth drops open yet again, and it takes him a moment to answer. “You think I'm _hot?_ ” he squeaks.

Texas snorts. “Chyeah. You're a Burner. We're all super hot, it's like a rule or somethin’.”

On Julie’s other side Dutch mutters, “Burnin’ hot,” through a mouthful of toast and cheese, and snickers.

Chuck ignores this. “Okay,” he says, holding up his hands to gesture frantically, “but have you actually _looked_ at me lately--or ever, actually, do you actually know what I look like or are you just imagining someone totally different when you look at me? Because apparently you haven't noticed, but I'm not hot!”

Between herself and no one else, Julie will admit she can _partially_ agree with this. Objectively speaking, Chuck is gangly and rawboned and the way his bangs hide his eyes and his cheekbones does his face no favors. Looking at a still image of him, anyone who didn't know him would likely shrug and move on. On the other hand, when he's enthusiastic about something and his hands are moving quick and eager to illustrate what he's saying, when he's relaxed and laughing… it startles her sometimes how good-looking he is. And somehow because she knows him, likes him, that view is the one that carries over, so even when he's not at his best she still thinks he's cute.

So, basically, she knows what he means by saying that, and even agrees a little, but mostly not. Attraction is weird.

“Are too,” Texas tells Chuck. “Okay, maybe not as hot as Texas, but nobody's that hot, dude. It's just Texas up here on this level, lookin’ incredibly sexy and watchin’ everybody, like, faint and junk. But you're still kinda hot, even if you're not Texas-hot. So. Can Texas get a kiss?”

Chuck sits there a minute. Then he says, in a small voice, “You… you like me?”

Toast clinks on Dutch’s plate as he puts it down. Julie isn't looking, because she's too busy eyeing Texas. She wonders if Dutch is joining her in trying to telepathically communicate to Texas exactly how much trouble he's going to be in if he says the wrong thing right now.

Texas frowns. “Yeah? Duh. Course Texas likes you. You're hot an’ fun and junk. And you make great noises.”

Chuck snorts and Julie relaxes, hears Dutch sigh quietly in relief.

“Oh yeah,” Chuck says, only able to summon mild sarcasm in the face of the shy smile pulling at his mouth, “everyone knows how much you like my screaming.”

“Yup,” Texas says, reaching up to rest a forearm on Chuck’s shoulder. “Bet it sounds even better in bed.”

Chuck goes scarlet, makes a choking noise, and starts swatting at Texas like he's trying to push the words back into his mouth. Julie puts her head down on the counter and laughs her ass off. Dutch starts laughing, almost chokes on a crumb, and has a coughing fit that morphs smoothly back into giggling as soon as he can breathe again. Texas just grins, completely unperturbed.

“So how ‘bout that kiss?”

“Oh my _god_ , Texas,” Chuck half-yelps, “you can't just _say_ shit like that, _fuck!_ ”

“Ooh, swearing,” Dutch says, still laughing, “you got him _real_ flustered.”

“Texas is just that good,” Texas says, flexing. “Now, is Texas gonna get a kiss, or does he hafta keep saying junk to make you get all cute and blushy and yelly?”

“Oh, and now it's extortion!” Chuck says, arms waving. “Great, just--oh my god, you know what, just shut _up_ ,” he groans, grabs Texas’s hat off his head, and leans down to kiss him. Thoroughly.

Julie leans her cheek on one hand and watches smugly. Dutch taps her on the shoulder after a minute, licking crumbs off his fingers, and offers a surreptitious fistbump, which she accepts. Then they both go back to watching.

Chuck eventually straightens up, still pink but smiling now. “There. Happy?”

“Ka-chaw,” a wide-eyed Texas says faintly.

Julie grins. “Good. Because now you need to get some food quick before we're all due upstairs.”

Texas licks his lips and blinks at Chuck like it's taking a while for mental processes to come back online. Chuck offers him back his hat and Texas pulls it on. “Oh hey yeah, breakfast!” he says, and disappears into the kitchen.

Chuck looks after him, smiling and nibbling on his lip, then realizes Dutch and Julie are grinning at him and goes red again, dropping his forehead to the counter with a groan. “Oh my god, quit it, guys.”

“Quit what?” Dutch says. “Bein’ smug about how right we were that he likes you?”

Chuck makes an annoyed growling noise.

“How about being smug over how easily you took Texas’s brain offline?” Julie says. “Can we do that?”

Chuck snickers, stops himself, and sits up, one hand trying to rub the smile off his face. “I guess, if you want,” he says, with a poor attempt to sound casual.

“Good,” says Dutch. “Cuz man, that was amazing.”

Julie tilts her head at Chuck. “You gonna be okay with all this, now?”

Chuck sobers and takes a deep breath. “I--maybe? I mean, it's stopped making any sense at all, but that almost makes it easier, in a weird way, I guess? Like, if I'm actually in a feverdream, or I've entered some weird alternate reality where stuff like this can happen to me, then I sort of don't need to worry anymore, or try to make it make sense.” He pauses to chew on his lip. “The not-worrying part is probably going to last about five minutes, but, uh, yeah. I think I'll be okay.”

“Alternate reality?” Dutch says. “What are we talkin’ about now?”

“Everyone liking Chuck,” Julie explains. “Apparently that's against the rules.”

Dutch sighs. “Okay, first, that's just depressing. And second--man, of _course_ we're breakin’ the rules! We're Burners!”

Chuck laughs, startled, and for a moment they're all grinning at each other. Then comes a yell from the kitchen, “Yeeeeaah, Jacob left muscle mulch for breakfast!”

“Man, can't you just have some cereal?” Dutch calls back in dismay.

“Naw, Texas has to fuel up, get energized!” Texas says, appearing in the doorway with an open jar of the stuff. Julie can't quite smell it from here, but she will as soon as he gets closer.

“Right,” she says. “Well, I'm gonna go see how Mike is doing.”

“I'll come with you,” Chuck says.

“Cowards,” Dutch mutters. “Fine, I'll stay here, make sure the guy with no sense of smell doesn't get distracted or anything.”

“See you in ten,” Julie says, and they head out.


	6. We're all in

Mike takes as long as he can in the shower, getting really thoroughly clean. He gives in to the heat while he's there, tries to take the edge off even though he knows it won't work, and gets out of the bathroom just as overheated and uncomfortable as he went in. He can't tell how long he was in there because his time sense has kinda gone screwy, and he doesn't want to check because… what if it wasn't very long? All he wants right now is his Burners (his pack) and they're getting breakfast and discussing this whole mess and he's got no right to hurry them, this is important.

He's fine, he's okay, he can wait. He leaves his door open as usual, strips off his jacket because he's too hot and paces the length of his room, back and forth, stride quick and short. Maybe he feels a little edgy, twitchy, like he's _losing his mind_ \--no, he's fine. He dealt with this by himself for hours yesterday, he can do it again if he has to.

Chuck and Dutch are willing, anyway, they might come up soon. Julie… god, Julie was great last night. He smiles to himself, then realizes he's standing still like an idiot grinning at the wall.

Shaking himself, he starts to pace again, a little more slow and deliberate this time. Julie might agree, depending how she feels about the whole group sex thing. Texas is a wildcard. Mike could guess at him being totally willing with no concerns, or refusing with a shrug for some unfathomable Texas reason. (Texas would probably explain, but whether the rest of them would understand any better after the explanation is a different story.)

Chuck and Dutch are the only ones who are sure. Mike swallows, heels of his boots thudding against the floor as he starts moving faster again. God, Dutch was really good all by himself, with Chuck there as well it'd be _amazing_.

Assuming that they still want to do it that way. If all four of the Burners have to agree for this to work, than if even one refuses, there's no reason to do it like that at all. In which case it'd be just one of them coming in here in a little while. Probably Dutch.

Dutch is fine, Mike likes Dutch, he was really fun and sweet and took good care of Mike. Being just with him again would be fine. 

God, Mike really wants to kiss Chuck, wants it like his skin is burning with it, wants to touch him, wants his hands on Mike's skin, wants--

Panting, Mike walks carefully over to his bed, sits down and puts his hot face in his hands. His heart is racing, his pants are wickedly tight, and his self-control is slipping a lot faster than it did yesterday.

...Of course, yesterday he'd been trying to make the problem go away on his own instead of just ignoring it, which might have slowed it down some. He could… he could try that. He probably should.

He just really doesn't want to, because him being naked would make an awkward situation even worse if it turns out to be _all_ the Burners when they come up, and he's holding out hope that it will be all of them. Mike has always been an optimist. He's not going to stop now.

Crap, now he's thinking about Texas, about how much he wants Texas to push him up against a wall, wants to spar with him and throw the fight just to see Texas looming over him, pinning him to the mat with that pleased, cocky grin. Wants Texas to kiss him, flip him over, take the back of Mike’s neck between his teeth. 

Mike _wants_ so much it hurts.

He's not sure if he's been sitting here on his bed, staring at the floor, clenching his hands together and breathing steadily, for ten seconds or ten minutes, when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He's only vaguely aware that he's on his feet and moving, but there's Julie! It's so good to see her! And there's Chuck! It's really, _really_ good to see him!

He greets Julie briefly, distracted, then goes and greets Chuck much more in depth. Julie taps him on the shoulder, saying something, and he'll pay attention in a minute, but this is important.

Chuck is making high-pitched noises, which is normal, and smelling like anxiety and want, which is also normal, so it's only when he shoves at Mike’s shoulders that Mike pulls back and--

\--Comes to. He's got Chuck pinned against a wall in the hallway, one knee pressed between Chuck’s legs, and Chuck is bright red and his lips are pink and shiny because Mike was just kissing him. A lot. And it was really good.

His back hits the opposite wall before he's even aware of moving.

“Oh my god Chuck I'm so sorry I didn't mean--I didn't even ask, I'm so--”

“Mikey, oh my god, it's okay, dude, you just startled me!” Chuck takes a deep breath, standing up from where he was sagging against the wall, and takes a hesitant step forward. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine! You're the one I just--” jumped, he just shoved Chuck into a wall and was grinding up against him without so much as a _please_. God, just like Rayon said, but Mike thought he had more time before it happened.

“You don't look fine,” Julie puts in as Chuck opens his mouth. “And you're not acting fine, either.”

“Sorry,” Mike mutters, and glances at Julie. “Um. I didn't--do anything weird to you, did I?”

Julie tilts her head. “I would say wer, not weird.” She smiles, sharp and intrigued. “You came up and rubbed your cheek against mine, then sniffed my neck, and then you went straight for Chuck.”

“Which was fine!” Chuck adds, high-pitched. “Not a problem, I'm--it's not like I'm gonna complain about k-kissing you! I just, um, you were acting--I just needed to check that you were okay.”

“I'm fine,” Mike sighs, pushing off the wall. “Just being a jerk.”

Chuck snorts. “Right, that must be the problem. Not, y’know, any kind of magic-skewed biological process that you're trying to control with willpower, or anything. You just randomly decided on your own to get really direct about--” he waves a hand, still very red, “--things.”

Mike hunches his shoulders, but Chuck cuts him off as he opens his mouth.

“Nope, stop apologizing, bro, it's not your fault the heat is messing you up, okay?”

“Poor cowboy,” Julie says, setting a hand between his shoulder blades. “We left you too long, didn't we. You've had a rough morning already.”

Mike tries not to melt, because it's dumb when her hand’s not even on his skin, but god it's _so good_ to be touched, even with a t-shirt in the way. He opens his mouth to ask a question just as Julie strokes his back, and the moan that comes out is nothing like words. He sways a little on his feet.

“Shh,” Julie says. “Relax, okay, we're going to take care of you.”

A whimper makes it out of him and he swallows, trying to get control again. “So, um, you're okay with this, Jules?”

“Yup,” she says, still rubbing gently along his spine. “ _And_ Texas, it's all of us. We'll help you deal with this thing, don't worry.”

He looks over, stares at her wide-eyed, glances at Chuck to double check, like Julie would ever mess with him about this. Chuck nods hastily.

“Yeah, dude, everyone agreed. We're all in, Texas is just finishing breakfast and he and Dutch will be up too.”

“Which reminds me,” Julie says, and steps away from Mike to glance through his door. “Your bed is way too small for five people. Chuck, come help me with Texas’s exercise mat. That’ll fit on your floor and be a little more comfortable,” she says to Mike, and heads for the stairs again. Chuck sighs and follows her.

_No no no don't leave please I need--_

“It's okay, bro,” Chuck says over his shoulder, like he sensed Mike's spiking unease. “We'll be right back.”

“Okay,” Mike makes himself say, and stands there looking after them like an idiot, hands clenching and loosening again. It takes a few minutes before he can tear himself away, step into his room and glance around, but he doesn't even see what he's looking at and he can't hold still. He's back in the hall in a minute, watching the stairs.

It's stupid. He knows it's stupid and he still can't stop, he wants them close, needs his pack with him so bad the best he can do is wait here and not follow them.

When they come back, Chuck is first up the stairs, helping Julie haul the mat. He glances up and his step hitches when he sees Mike standing there.

“Aw, geez, Mikey,” he sighs, stepping up into the hall, and Mike’s shoulders hunch again, almost as guilty as he is relieved. “You're gonna be okay, we'll take care of you.”

“I know,” Mike says defensively, trying to smile. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and doesn't lunge for Chuck, doesn't beg for a kiss or a touch or start ripping his own clothes off. He can control himself, he's civilized, not a dumb animal, no matter what the heat’s doing to him.

Julie comes up into the hall with the back end of the mat and follows Chuck into Mike's room, sparing Mike a quick once over as she passes. She and Chuck wrestle the mat into place on the floor, ignoring Mike's belated offer of help. The darn thing's heavy, a springy, durable pad to practice throws and rolls on, and it takes up pretty much all the free floor space once it's down. It'll definitely work better than trying to fit everyone on a single bed.

Mike stares at it, remembers you're supposed to take your shoes off before you step on it, and starts tugging at his boots. Julie blinks and pulls hers off, and Chuck turns red and hugs himself.

“Oh, are we, um, not waiting for anybody else first?” he says in a high voice.

Mike opens his mouth, finds the words _no please I can't wait anymore_ all tangled up with what he meant to say, and comes out with, “Shoes,” sounding kind of strangled. Chuck blinks at him, relaxes slightly and nods, getting his sneakers off.

“You okay, bro?”

Mike swallows and nods instead of trying to speak.

“What do you need, Mike?” Julie says.

Mike focuses on breathing and shakes his head. He can't yet, he has to wait for Dutch and Texas.

Chuck steps toward him, uncertain. “Come on, Mikey, can't we help?”

“I can't--we gotta wait,” Mike forces out. “If they come up and we're already--it'll be weird. Don't want to make them feel weird.”

Chuck turns to look at Julie, who shakes her head a little. “Okay,” she says calmly, “we can wait.” 

“You're kind of worried about this, aren't you?” Chuck asks him in a low voice. He puts a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “You can relax, dude, we're seriously all okay with it. Everything's gonna be fine, no one's going to… end up feeling left out or anything.”

Mike nods, breathing in, and he can smell Chuck, anxious and wanting and _Chuck_ , who's been Mike's pack since they were six years old. His scent is warm and familiar and comforting and Mike wants him so much, and he's trying to be strong but Chuck is so close and Mike’s body sways over to kiss him all by itself. Chuck kisses him back, gently, one hand sliding up into Mike's hair, and Mike wraps himself around him.

“Yeah,” Julie says, stepping up behind Mike to run both hands across his back. “Try to relax, okay? Everything’s all right. We can do whatever you need, it's not gonna be a problem.”

Mike moans and shivers, pinned between them, and even with all their clothes still on it feels so good to have them both touching him. His hands clutch at Chuck’s back, clawing at his shirt without meaning to. Abruptly he lets go of Chuck, who steps back uncertainly, then blinks as Mike's hands go to the hem of his t-shirt and rip it off over his head.

“No, don’t--” Mike says, looking from Julie to Chuck, both of whom look startled, hands pulled away from him. “--Don’t stop. Please, keep touching me?”

“Not a problem, bro,” Chuck squeaks. “We can definitely do that.” He steps forward and puts a cautious hand on Mike's bare shoulder, and then Julie puts her hands on his back again and Mike sags with the relief of skin contact.

Chuck moves in to kiss him again and Mike clings to him, making soft wanting noises and trying to remember why he wasn't going to take his clothes off yet. Their hands on his skin feel amazing, he wants more of that, lots of that, he wants to rub himself all over them.

He's vaguely aware of noise coming closer down the hallway outside, but it's not until Dutch says, “Oh, wow,” that Mike remembers.

Pulling out of the kiss, he turns to see Dutch, towering wide-eyed in the doorway, and a hatless Texas just behind him, bouncing on his toes. It takes everything Mike's got not to lunge for Texas like he did at Chuck.

“Hi,” he says as they step into the room, and his voice sounds funny, husky and low. He goes over to Dutch, using all his self-control to pat him on the shoulder instead of doing anything weird, then ends up draping himself on Texas anyway, rubbing his cheek along the side of Texas’s face and breathing in deep, inhaling his scent. Want and excitement, a faint note of anxiety, toothpaste over muscle mulch--huh, that's nice of him, he brushed his teeth. He knows no one else likes the taste of that stuff.

“Oh,” says Texas. “Uh. Hi, Tiny.”

“Mmm,” Mike says, nuzzling into his hair, and Texas’s hands settle on Mike's waist.

“He was _not_ this bad yesterday,” Dutch murmurs behind Mike. “I thought the first onset was supposed to be the worst and it'd get better over the next few days.”

“For Motorcity wer, yeah,” Chuck says, “but the suppressant ff-screws everything up. If this doesn't work, it could--”

“It's going to work,” Julie says firmly, as Mike finally manages to pull himself away.

Okay, so he's not exactly on top of his game right now, but at least he didn't shove Texas into a wall. Swallowing, he steps back from Texas, who looks disappointed as his hands drop from Mike's waist.

“Okay,” Mike says, looking around at them. God, he just wants to pull them down on top of him, wants them all at once right now--stop. Losing control again. Can't do that, can't push this, gotta keep it in check, but it's so strong and he wants so bad--

“You guys ready to do this?” Julie says, picking up Mike’s slack as he stalls out, fighting his own instincts. Chuck and Dutch nod and Texas punches the air.

“Heck yeah! Let's kick this thing's butt!”

Julie slides a look sideways at Texas and smirks a little before turning serious again. “Who's got condoms and lube?”

“Oh,” Dutch says, “we're gonna--I thought we wouldn't need--”

“Condoms,” Julie says, unbudging.

“Gonna be kinda messy otherwise,” Chuck agrees, and goes red.

“Well, yeah, okay,” Dutch says, shrugging. “I got plenty. Be right back.”

“Texas has Texas-sized amounts of lube!” Texas says. “Let's Texasify this sex!” He plunges out the door after Dutch.

Mike has to clench his fists to keep from reaching after them. He stares through the door, twitches, looks at Chuck, looks back out the door.

“Mikey,” Chuck says, “they're coming right back, bro, it's okay.”

“I know,” Mike says steadily, listening for footsteps on the stairs. “I'm fine.”

“You're all wound up,” Julie points out, putting a hand on his arm, and he catches his breath, leaning into her touch. “And it's going to be a few minutes before we get anywhere, because I gotta tell those two about our rules and I don't trust them to pay attention if anyone's getting naked.”

Mike breathes and breathes and does not whine or make pleading noises. He doesn't ask what rules she's talking about, either, because if he opens his mouth he's only going to beg.

“Dude, this sucks,” Chuck mutters. “Look, I know the rules already, how about I keep him distracted until we can, y’know, get started?”

“Good plan,” Julie says, and then Chuck is there in front of Mike, one hand on Mike’s cheek tipping his face up a little to kiss him.

Mike groans into it and sags against Chuck, who makes little soothing sounds and strokes Mike’s back and keeps kissing him, slow and good. It's good, Mike is okay, Chuck is touching him and he's going to be fine.

*

Chuck is starting to wonder if heat is contagious, if humans can catch it, because holy crap his reaction to Mike is screwy right now. Yes, sure, Mike does kind of look like sex personified at the moment, sweaty and flushed, pupils huge in his yellow eyes, and _god_ the way he presses himself up against Chuck and clings is intoxicating, like Chuck is the only thing keeping him sane, but Chuck is pretty sure it's messed up to be as turned on by it as he is concerned. The lost look Mike gets every time they stop touching him is disturbing, and the knowledge that it's because he's desperate to get naked with them really shouldn't override it.

It kinda does, though, so Chuck compromises by being concerned, incredibly turned on, and guilty about it.

He holds Mike and soothes him until the others get back, then defiantly keeps holding him. Texas keeps looking over jealously until Julie demands his attention, and Chuck kisses Mike while Julie goes over the rules.

And then suddenly people are getting naked. Chuck might be clinging to Mike a little at this point. Texas kicks off his jumpsuit, flings his tank top into a corner, and drops his tiny speedo-style briefs like it's not even an issue, the big jerk. Julie pulls off her pants and vest but keeps her shirt and underwear on. Dutch strips off his shirt, glances at Mike, and takes off the rest, if more slowly than Texas.

Chuck tries to keep his eyes away from all that bare skin, because if he looks he's going to end up staring at Texas’s dick, and then Texas is gonna punch him, but in one direction is Julie, smiling and gorgeous with bare legs and her little underwear drawing the eye, and in the other is Dutch, also completely naked and tantalizing and _no don't look at his dick_. Trying to keep his eyes to himself, Chuck looks down, but Mike is right in front of him, shirtless, and the front of his pants looks kinda strained and _agh_. In self-defense, he closes his eyes and kisses Mike again. 

“So, uh, Mike?” Dutch says. “Who you want first, man?”

Mike groans against Chuck’s lips and pulls away breathing hard. He looks around at them all, still pressing against Chuck. “Texas and Chuck?”

“Uh!” squeaks Chuck.

“At the same time?” Julie says.

“Yeah,” Mike says, “I can suck one off while the other one takes me.”

Chuck makes a choking noise because _oh god_ , and _hot_ , and also _aaaaah!_

“ _Heck_ yeah!” Texas says, cheeks flushed. “Texas has got this! Oh, hey, Chuck, which one you want?”

Chuck opens his mouth, but only a croak comes out. He's breathing too fast, fingers digging into Mike’s shoulders, eyes too wide, trying to get an answer out, trying to speak at all, and it's _so dumb_ that they've barely started and he's already flipping out, he's so _pathetic_ \--

“Whoa,” Mike says, staring at him, “buddy, no, it's okay.”

“I think maybe it's a little quick, divin’ right in like this,” Dutch says. “Chuck, you wanna wait for a while, kinda ease in?”

Chuck drops his head and nods, hot-faced and wanting to disappear. Thirty seconds in and he's already spoiling this for Mike, messing everything up.

“Dude,” Mike says, putting his arms back around Chuck, “that's fine, okay? Don't, don't be all upset, I didn't mean to push, I'm sorry.” He's nosing into Chuck’s hair, rubbing his cheek against Chuck’s temple, being all cute and wer and concerned and Chuck doesn't deserve him, but for now he's got him and he'd better fix this.

“I'm fine,” he says on a deep breath. “Come on, bro, don't keep Texas waiting.”

Normally Mike wouldn't let him get away with that, but right now it's enough to distract him completely. He pulls away with an eager little sound, looks over at Texas and starts tugging his pants off.

“You still want someone on either side, or you gonna stick with Texas?” Dutch asks, and Mike whips his head up and stares at him.

“Oh,” he says, low and husky, “you wanna--yeah. That'd be great.”

“Cool,” says Dutch, smiling, and Mike finishes getting naked fast.

Chuck’s throat clicks as he swallows, because this time he can't look away, it's _Mike_. God he's gorgeous, stepping over to kiss Texas, the muscles of his back and arms looking deceptively sleek and willowy next to Texas’s bulk. Chuck’s eyes slide down to Mike’s butt, which objectively speaking isn't amazing, like,Texas’s is a lot rounder, but Chuck doesn't care because it's _Mike’s_. And then he's turning, dropping to his knees, and his dick is hard and flushed dark, his chest heaving as he pants, and Chuck has to close his eyes to remember how breathing works.

“Hey,” Julie says quietly, coming up beside him, “you doing okay?”

Chuck makes a stupid high cracked noise and drops his head to hide more of his face behind his bangs. “Fine,” he mumbles.

“Okay. Can I kiss you?”

His eyes snap open to stare at her, because even if he did reluctantly accept that she likes him somehow, it seems pretty obvious that watching what's going on with Mike and the others should be way more interesting than kissing Chuck. Especially because holy _shit_ , Mike is deep-throating Dutch like it's not even a thing.

Chuck looks back at Julie and she's smiling, watching through half-lidded eyes as Texas kneels behind Mike. She looks back to Chuck and tilts her head in question.

“Yeah okay,” Chuck says hoarsely, and leans down to kiss her. She slips her tongue in his mouth and he whimpers, then does his best to get her just as overheated as he is. 

Mike lets out a muffled groan and Chuck flicks his eyes over to see him pull off of Dutch to say, “Dude, come on!”

Texas snorts. “Don't even try it, Tiny.” His hands are on Mike’s butt, and one hand is-- _oh_. Oh god, he's fingering Mike, that has no reason to be so hot. “You gonna get done by Texas, Texas is gonna make sure you're ready first, that's how this goes.”

Mike groans again in protest and complaint. “Come on, I don't need it, let's just go! It's not like you could hurt me!” He squirms, though Chuck can't tell if he's trying to get away or pushing into what Texas is doing.

Julie makes a quiet noise against Chuck’s lips and pulls away, tugs him to sit down with her, which is probably a good idea before his knees give out. Watching the others, she leans against Chuck, who cautiously puts an arm around her and gets a contented hum.

“Oh, Texas could hurt you,” Texas says, unwontedly serious, “you'd just heal quick, and I'm not into that. That's not how Texas rolls. Just chill, we're almost there.”

“Relax, man,” Dutch says, stroking Mike’s hair as he makes a disconsolate sound. “We're gonna give you what you need, all right? Just let him slick you up, you're gonna need it.”

Mike huffs and ducks back to Dutch’s lap, swallows him down again, and Chuck doesn't manage to choke off the whimper in time. Where did Mike learn to do that, _god_. Julie strokes Chuck’s chest and he takes a breath, swallows, doesn't make any other embarrassing noises.

“You should do that again,” Julie murmurs to him.

“Uh. Do what?”

“Make that noise. It's sexy.”

“ _Whuhah?_ ” Chuck says, which probably qualifies as the opposite of sexy, and god, what is he even doing here? He's the least sexy person in this room, probably no one would miss him if he left. ...Except for Mike, who’s crazy enough to want him for a mate. ...And Dutch, who wants to date him for some reason. And Julie keeps kissing him. And even Texas, for bizarre Texas reasons, seems to want Chuck to some extent.

Okay, maybe they _would_ miss him if he walked out.

Julie chuckles quietly and pats his thigh, then leaves her hand there. Chuck bites his lip and tells his dick to stop being stupid. It ignores him and continues to be overexcited.

Mike makes an eager noise and Chuck looks away from Julie’s hand to see Texas grab Mike's hips and push forward, sliding in as Mike moans low and long, muffled around Dutch’s dick. Dutch catches his breath audibly, hand tightening in Mike’s hair, and Mike makes another pleased sound.

Swallowing hard, Chuck closes his eyes as a wave of heat sweeps through him, then opens them again because he's kidding himself if he thinks he can be here and _not_ watch this.

Texas starts thrusting and Mike groans, pushing back against him. Dutch blows out a breath and grins a little, gets a handful of Mike’s hair and pulls, tugging his mouth further onto Dutch’s dick. That looks a lot meaner than Chuck would expect from Dutch except that Mike is humming a hungry, contented sound, eyelashes fluttering. He _likes_ it. Wow, okay. Chuck gasps in a breath.

Texas is making soft huffing noises in time with his thrusts, flushed and open-mouthed. Dutch moans softly, moving Mike around by the hair, and Mike keeps letting out muffled groans and hums of pleasure. Chuck’s jeans are really tight.

“I bet he'd like it if we were touching him too,” Julie murmurs in Chuck’s ear, and a shaky high-pitched noise gets out before he can stop it. _God_. Mike is gorgeous like this, naked and wanting and getting what he needs, and Julie is almost certainly right, Chuck could touch him right now. Mike wants to have sex with Chuck, he's probably okay with touching before then.

“Should we--” _ask_ , Chuck is about to say, when Julie cuts him off.

“Mike, is it okay if we touch you?”

“ _Mmmm!_ ” Mike says emphatically, making Dutch catch his breath, and Julie laughs.

“One moan for yes, two for no,” she says.

“ _Mm!_ ” Mike says.

“Good job,” Julie says, and Mike shivers and makes a soft, breathy noise.

“Well?” Julie says to Chuck. “Shall we?”

Chuck gulps. “Yeah, okay.”

Julie gets up, steps around Dutch and sits down on Mike’s other side as Chuck moves up beside him. Mike lets out contented sounds as Julie strokes down his back and Chuck cautiously reaches out and puts a hand on his ribs. 

Texas is biting his lip, brows furrowed with effort as he pumps into Mike, like, _right next_ to Chuck. Dutch is still moaning softly, breathing hard, fist clenched in Mike’s hair, and Mike moves between them like this is the only place he wants to be. They're all incredibly sexy, and Chuck kind of wants to touch more people than Mike, except he's barely got the courage for _that_ , he shouldn't get ahead of himself.

“Try this,” Julie says, smiling at Chuck, and slides a hand under Mike’s chest. Chuck can't see what she does, but Mike cries out, muffled around Dutch, and bucks back into Texas. Chuck leans back enough to see and Julie is playing roughly with Mike’s nipples.

Chuck takes a careful breath and seriously considers unzipping his jeans because _ow_. He imitates Julie, experimentally pinching Mike’s nearer nipple, and Mike writhes and moans.

“That's right, cowboy,” Julie says, “show us how much you like it.”

Mike moans loudly and Dutch laughs a little.

“I'd say that's pretty clear,” he says breathlessly.

“God, Mikey,” Chuck says in a shaky voice. He nibbles his lip, looking over at Julie. “How fast you think we can make him come?”

Mike whimpers and twitches as Chuck keeps tugging at his nipple.

Julie’s eyes widen and then she gives Chuck a wide, pleased smile. “Pretty fast, I think.”

“Oh, man,” Dutch mutters, closing his eyes and shivering. “You guys, wow.”

“Mark him up, he likes that,” Julie says, and leans down to bite Mike’s shoulder blade. Mike moans high and desperate and Chuck’s eyes go wide. Wow, okay, he _really_ likes it.

Chuck and Julie start leaving marks scattered across his back and Mike gets louder, writhes harder until Chuck reaches under to wrap a hand around his dick and strokes. Mike pulls off Dutch, makes a hoarse, shaky noise, and comes. Startled and thrilled, Chuck strokes him through it.

Texas gasps and groans, thrusts hard a few times and goes slowly still, quivering as aftershocks run through him. Smiling, Julie watches him from the corner of her eye. Chuck sits back, reluctantly pulling his hands away from Mike.

After a minute of panting, Texas pulls carefully out. Mike sits up, breathing hard, eyes dazed and half-open, smiling open-mouthed.

“Sorry,” he says to Dutch. “Just gimme a minute and I can help you out.”

“Cool,” Dutch says with a smile, shifting restlessly.

Texas drops the condom in the trash and flops down on the mat, and Mike leans over to kiss him. Julie runs her hand up Mike’s leg, smiling, and rubs her thumb across his hip bone. Mike moans into the kiss.

Chuck wants to touch Mike and Dutch at the same time, Mike all flushed and loose-limbed, Dutch licking his lips and trying to be patient with his dick standing up rigid. Julie and Texas are touching Mike right now, though, and no one's touching Dutch, which seems kind of unfair.

“Hey,” Chuck says to Dutch, his voice only slightly high and squeaky. “You wanna, uh…”

“Pretty sure the answer’s yes, whatever you're gonna say,” Dutch says. His eyes are big and dark and he's smiling hopefully at Chuck and it's still _really weird_ that all these gorgeous people actually like Chuck, want to do this stuff with him, but it also feels good, hot and glowing in his chest, pulling a shy smile onto his face.

Chuck leans over, pauses before kissing him. “You probably shouldn't just give people permission to do whatever they want,” he points out with a small smirk. “It's not safe.”

Dutch snorts at him. “Like I need to worry about that.” He leans in for the kiss and Chuck nips his lower lip and sucks on it. Dutch makes a really nice shuddery noise and Chuck kisses him properly.

When Chuck pulls back a few minutes later, Dutch is breathing a lot harder, clinging to Chuck’s shoulders like he might fall over otherwise.

“Holy…” Dutch says, and shakes his head. “Geez, man, you are way too good at that.”

“Maybe you're just easy,” Chuck suggests. Behind him, Julie laughs, sounding a little breathless.

“No, I'm with Dutch,” she says, pulling away from Mike flushed and bright-eyed. She meets Chuck’s eyes as he glances over at her. “You're really good at kissing. I can't wait to find out what else you can do with your mouth.”

Chuck’s jaw drops and his face catches fire. “Ah, ahaha,” he squeaks.

“Yeah,” Dutch says. “I can agree with that.”

Chuck looks back at him, open-mouthed, wide eyes dropping to Dutch’s dick on their own. He _could_. Chuck could get his mouth on that, could try to make Dutch come. Dutch would let him, would probably like him to try, even if Chuck isn't, like, an expert at it, definitely can't deepthroat like Mike can--god, after Mike, Dutch would be so disappointed, though, Chuck would probably compare so badly--

“Hey,” Dutch says, one hand squeezing Chuck’s shoulder. “Breathe, man. You don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“I _want_ ,” Chuck says, strained and shrill, “I just, I'm probably no good at it and you aren't gonna like it and this is supposed to be about Mike anyway, not me, and I shouldn't--”

“Whoa,” Dutch says, both hands on Chuck’s shoulders again. “Chuck, I said _breathe_.”

He has to breathe, he promised Mike he could do this, Mike needs him to be okay. Chuck closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Man, you're fine,” Dutch says. “You just gotta try to relax some, have _fun_ , okay?”

Chuck gives him a look, voice cracking a little. “Right! No problem!”

“Hey,” Mike said, close behind Chuck so he twitches hard. Mike puts a hand on his back. “Can I get a kiss, buddy?”

Chuck breathes deep and twists around to kiss Mike, who moans into it and pushes closer to Chuck, hands clutching and pulling at him. It's a while before Chuck manages to pull back, and then Mike is flushed and panting and wide-eyed at close range and Chuck’s dick gives an aching throb in his jeans.

“Julie?” Chuck says much too high. “You up?”

“Sound good, Mike?” she asks.

It takes a moment for Mike to be able to pull his eyes away from Chuck, but then he smiles over at Julie and nods. Chuck’s shoulders hunch. If only he wasn't so pathetic and messed up, he could just--step up, take his turn already, get the disappointed look out of Mike’s eyes--

“Hey,” Mike says, brushing his fingers down Chuck’s cheek, and Chuck looks at him wide-eyed. “It's okay, dude. You can take as much time as you need. That's totally fine, okay?” He grins. “That's what's great about having four mates. I'm good, we're good.”

Unbelievable as that sounds, he's utterly sincere about it, because it's Mike. Sighing, Chuck leans in to kiss him again, and he kisses back with a happy little hum.

When Chuck pulls away to breathe, Mike leans over to whisper in his ear. “When I get my mouth on Dutch again, you should suck on his earlobes.”

Chuck’s mouth drops open. “What, seriously?” he says in a squeak, glancing over at Dutch, and Mike nods, grinning. Chuck studies Dutch like there might be some kind of sign if that would be effective or not, and Dutch stares suspiciously between him and Mike, who gives him a sly look.

“Whoa, hey, now,” Dutch says, eyes widening. “No fair, this is sposed to be about Mike! You can't go gangin’ up on the rest of us!”

“Not ganging up,” Mike argues. “Just making it better for everybody!”

“Including you,” Julie says to him. “So, you ready, cowboy?” She's still wearing her shirt, but under the strap-on’s harness it looks like she took her underwear off. Thumbing idly at the slicked head of the strap-on, she sits on her haunches, smiling, and there's a second where the four boys are just kind of frozen because _god_ she's hot, small and vibrant and commanding. Chuck suspects if he had Mike’s nose right now, the smell of want in the air would be overpowering.

“So ready,” Mike says hoarsely, and scrambles over to kneel in front of her and spread his legs, bending over to take Dutch in his mouth. Dutch makes a breathless noise and grabs Mike’s shoulders.

Julie kneels up and pushes into Mike, then starts thrusting, pulling muffled moans and whimpers out of him. It was hot when Chuck saw them doing this last night, and it's still really, really hot. Chuck takes a careful breath, trying to adjust as Dutch clenches one hand in Mike’s hair, groaning softly.

That’s right, Chuck has a test to run.

Texas has moved over by Mike, stroking a rough hand down his spine. Chuck shifts closer to Dutch, who doesn't seem to notice until he leans in to breathe on Dutch’s neck.

“Oh,” Dutch sighs, sounding pleased, and then Chuck licks his earlobe and he makes a sound like “Hnn _-ahh!_ ”

“Huh,” Chuck says, intrigued, and tries sucking. That gets considerably more noise out of Dutch and he loses control of his hips for a moment, bucking up into Mike’s mouth in a way that would choke anyone else, but just makes Mike’s eyes crinkle in amusement. (Too hot, god he's so sexy.)

Well, now Chuck’s invested. He tugs Dutch’s earlobe with his teeth and licks and nips and nuzzles it until Dutch is moaning and gasping, hips jerking erratically, his other hand flailing up onto Chuck’s shoulder. Chuck raises a hand to Dutch’s other ear, brushes his fingertips lightly down the edge, then strokes the lobe while breathing on the one he's been licking. To his amazed delight, Dutch shudders and comes.

Mike moans around him and doesn't pull off until Dutch groans and tugs on his hair.

“Holy crap, man,” Dutch says to Chuck, and it sounds like he's trying to be annoyed, but his eyes are wide and he's still breathing hard and it's basically impossible to be anything but smug.

Chuck leans in to kiss him again and Dutch moans, hands coming up to Chuck’s hips, sliding under the hem of his shirt. Dutch’s long fingers glide over his skin and Chuck pulls away to gasp for breath because that's--he's--that's really--

“This okay?” Dutch murmurs, fingers stroking slowly back and forth over his stomach, and Chuck makes a kind of shivery noise that doesn't sound like an answer even to him.

“Chuck?” Dutch’s hands stop moving, just lie there on his skin, warm and careful, and Chuck can't tell if he needs them to start moving again or stay still or stop touching him entirely. He gasps for breath, tense and twitching.

“You gotta help me out here, man,” Dutch says. “This is a good thing or a bad thing?” Chuck just sort of thumps his head onto Dutch’s shoulder and whines in frustration.

“Oh,” Dutch says, “I get it. It's kinda both, huh? Hmm.” His hands start moving again, sliding over to Chuck’s sides and back, thumbs stroking gently, and Chuck takes a gasping breath, forehead pressed desperately to Dutch’s shoulder.

“Okay, how bout this,” Dutch says. “You're gonna tell me if I need to stop, or slow down, or do somethin’ different. And I'm gonna keep touchin’ you, goin’ slow like this, until you do. Okay?”

God, Chuck’s ears are just going to burn off. Without raising his head, he nods slightly.

“Cool,” Dutch says, and keeps touching him, slow and relaxed, and Chuck shivers and twitches and gasps. Right now he hates how sensitive his skin is, how desperate and pathetic and easy it makes him. When he gets worked up like this, it feels like there's not much difference between his dick and the rest of his body, it's all just one giant quivering nerve, vibrating with the slightest stimulation and desperate for more.

“Dang, you're so hot,” Dutch murmurs, and Chuck twitches.

“Nnh--I'm really not,” he says shakily. Dutch’s hands are sliding gradually upwards under Chuck’s shirt, stroking his ribs, edging ever closer to even more sensitive and dangerous territory. Chuck isn't sure he's ready for it, but he's not ready to stop Dutch yet, either. Maybe in a minute.

“Buddy, you-- _ah_ \--really are,” Mike says, and then catches his breath and moans loudly enough that Chuck looks over, wide-eyed.

Julie is still pounding into Mike, teeth set in her lip, dark eyes pleased and determined as he moans and claws at the mat under them. Texas has a hand under Mike, moving between his nipples and his dick, and Mike looks kind of like he's a hair away from losing it, yellow eyes wide, body jerking and trembling, sweaty and flushed and shaking.

Chuck whimpers at the sight of him, hips jerking, and Dutch hums softly.

“Gorgeous view, huh?” he says, and leans in, warm breath on Chuck’s throat followed by lips and _tongue_ and _suction_ and Chuck cries out, hands fastening on Dutch’s shoulders as his body shudders.

“ _God_ ,” Mike groans. “Tex, c-can you--hhah! _Ahh--_ ”

Clinging to Dutch, Chuck watches Mike’s hips push into Texas’s hand and back against Julie before those wild gold eyes close and Mike comes, shaking. Chuck makes another shaky little noise without meaning to.

“Mmm, geez,” Dutch mumbles, nuzzling Chuck’s neck, and Chuck’s hands tighten, nails digging in as he whimpers.

“God, yeah,” Dutch says, breathless, and kisses under Chuck’s ear. “Keep doin’ that, babe, that's good.”

Chuck isn't sure what he’s doing that’s good, but he’s not really in any condition to _stop_ whatever it is, either. He just kind of holds on as Dutch keeps doing things, lips and tongue and hands moving on Chuck’s skin while Chuck quivers and moans. Dutch slides one hand up Chuck’s chest under his shirt, brushing over one nipple, and Chuck goes stiff, that one bit of extra sensation all it takes to tip him into _too much input_. He can't think past the overwhelm, anxiety spiking as it doesn't stop.

Gasping for breath, he shoves weakly at Dutch’s shoulders and Dutch pulls back a little, hands going still, which, no, _move_.

“You okay, man? Uh,” Dutch says as Chuck tugs at one forearm, and both hands cooperatively pull out from under his shirt. “Yeah? This better?”

Still clinging to him, Chuck nods, chest heaving as the sensory overload stops. Very cautiously he drops his forehead against Dutch’s shoulder. Dutch puts a hand on his back and the other on his head, stroking his hair, and Chuck relaxes some. Dutch isn't mad he stopped him, is still willing to put up with Chuck’s weirdness for some reason. 

“Hey, you're okay, it's fine,” Dutch says softly. “You just gotta let me know. You all right?”

Chuck nods, breath slowing as the rest of his tension eases away. It's okay, Dutch listened and he's not mad at Chuck, everything's okay.

Which means… this is safe. It's safe to keep doing this, Dutch isn't going to ignore him just because it's silly to be anxious about this stuff. Dutch said he wouldn't, but Chuck couldn't really believe it all the way until now.

When he glances over at the others, Mike and Julie are kissing, and Mike’s hand is--oh _wow_. Okay. Julie took off the strap-on, and Mike’s hand is between her legs, which explains why her hands are clamped on his shoulders about as desperately as Chuck’s were on Dutch. Okay. That's… really distracting.

Texas is watching Mike and Julie hungrily, but to Chuck’s surprise, he glances over at Dutch and Chuck with the same expression, and brightens when he meets Chuck’s eyes.

“Hey! Wanna try Texas out, get some action? Don't worry, dude, Texas has got this whole bein’ careful thing down real good!”

Chuck kind of doubts it, but somehow he's still tempted. He never imagined being in a situation where Texas would be naked and wanting to make out with Chuck, and the possible addition of being willing to consider listening to him is even more bizarre and fascinating. Uncertain, he looks at Dutch, and Dutch huffs a little and smiles.

“Yeah, yeah, fine, I won't be greedy. Go for it.”

Greedy, like Chuck is worth being possessive or jealous over. That's too weird to even think about. He leans in, gives Dutch a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, and then turns to Texas.

“Yeah, _Texas!_ ” Texas says, and scoots over to Chuck. “Okay,” he says, frowning seriously. “Can Texas kiss you.”

Chuck bites back a nervous giggle. “Yeah,” he squeaks.

Texas nods, leans forward, and kisses him, hands coming to rest on Chuck’s waist. Chuck winds one hand in his black hair and kisses back until Texas groans into his mouth, hands tightening on him. One hand starts to slide around to his back and lower, and Chuck pulls away from the kiss, alarmed.

Panting, Texas blinks at him, then yanks the hand back to where it started. “Right, right, Texas gotta ask first. Uh. Can I touch your butt,” he says carefully.

Chuck’s gut does this weird twisty thing. On the one hand it's surprising and sweet that Texas is actually invested enough in this to bother remembering the rules. On the other, that doesn't guarantee he's going to react well to a refusal. It seems safer to agree, except that Chuck is pretty sure if Texas grabs his ass right now he's going to flip out and then _everyone_ will be mad at him.

“Hey,” Texas says, frowning, “don't do the thing. You gotta give Texas an answer, not do the flaily breathin’ thing.”

“I wasn't--I'm not panicking!” Chuck says shrilly.

Texas twists his mouth dubiously and Dutch cuts in. 

“Good,” Dutch says, “cuz you don't have to. Just tell Texas what you want, man.”

Texas nods, still frowning at Chuck, but his hands on Chuck’s waist are light, careful, like Chuck might be fragile. It's kind of nice. Comforting.

Chuck swallows. “Um. Not yet, please,” he says, voice high and tight.

Texas nods once and hesitates. Chuck braces, but all he says is, “We can do more kissin’, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Chuck says, breathless and kind of amazed. “Yeah, we--we can do that.”

“Awesome,” Texas says with satisfaction, and leans up to kiss Chuck again.

He's not pushing. _Texas_ , of all people, is actually listening to Chuck instead of pushing to get his way, like it matters more to him what Chuck wants. That's really weird, but… nice. Chuck really likes this alternate universe he seems to have fallen into.

Hands on Texas’s shoulders, Chuck hums against his mouth and relaxes almost involuntarily. He's safe, this is okay. 

He loses track for a little while, because kissing Texas is fun. He doesn't try to shove his tongue down Chuck’s throat the way Chuck might have expected, and he's a lot of fun to tease, kissing him all light and taunting and then getting deeper until he grunts in startlement and pulls back to breathe. Staring at Chuck, he's got this great expression, half hungry want and half poleaxed.

“Dang,” he breathes, and leans in again. A few minutes later he breaks off again, panting, and says, “See, Texas is great at this! You stick with Daddy Texas, he'll make you feel real good!”

“Uh-huh,” Chuck says dubiously, and brushes Texas’s hair aside to get his mouth on the side of that thick neck.

“Oh, what, you a vampire now?” Texas says when Chuck nips him, sounding more puzzled than turned on. “Good choice, cuz Texas’s blood would make you super fast and strong, like more’n normal for a vamp, and--uh, mm…”

Sucking and licking work much better than biting, apparently. Chuck keeps doing that, and although Texas keeps talking, he sounds pretty distracted, like even he's not really listening to what he's saying. He's completely hard now, and Chuck is kind of smug.

“Yeah, that'd be cool, but, uh, that's okay, you don't hafta be a vamp to be cool… Mmh. Texas ain't a vamp, and he's _super_ cool.”

Hidden against his neck, Chuck rolls his eyes and doesn't bother to respond, sucking gently on Texas’s earlobe. It doesn't have as dramatic an effect on him as it did on Dutch, but he seems to like it well enough.

“Nnh, yeah,” Texas mumbles. “You stick with Big Daddy Texas, he'll look after you. Nobody’s gonna scare you while I'm around. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, or scare you, or say mean junk to you, not while Texas got you.”

Chuck pulls his mouth off Texas’s skin and just--breathes, for a minute. There's this tentative fluttery warmth in his chest, except it's up against a knot of annoyed tension. _Except for you, you mean?_ he wants to say.

“Texas is gonna take care of you,” Texas goes on, “and make sure everybody listens to you, and try to make you happy, cuz that's what good boyfriends do, and Texas is the _best_ boyfriend. Yeah!”

...Oh. _Oh_. Maybe he _doesn't_ mean except for him. Chuck swallows as the fluttery feeling gets stronger, dissolving the tension and the flicker of anger. _Boyfriend._ Texas doesn't just want to kiss him, he wants to _date_ him, like he actually really likes Chuck for real. He's serious with this stuff about taking care of Chuck and--trying to make him happy, holy _shit_. He had no idea Texas even knew how to be that sweet.

Chuck realizes he's grinning helplessly, face pressed against Texas’s neck. Everyone actually likes him, they _all_ want to date him, it's not just Mike and Dutch, even _Texas_ wants to. It's totally nuts. He's almost giddy with it, even more turned on than he was.

Making a noise that's half moan and half astonished giggle, he grabs Texas by the hair and kisses him hard.

“Whoa,” Dutch murmurs behind him.

“I mean,” Mike says, looking up from Julie, “pretty sure that's everybody's job now, not just Texas’s.” He's breathing hard, and when Chuck glances over, his yellow eyes look kind of glazed. Julie is half slumped against him, panting raggedly, her hips shifting as his hand moves.

“Right?” Mike says. “We're all gonna take care of each other. Cuz that's what you do with people you love.” His smile is utterly sincere as he glances around at them all, catching and holding Chuck’s eyes last.

Chuck nibbles his lip and smiles awkwardly back. He wouldn't say he’s in _love_ with anyone besides Mike, but that's Mike for you.

“Right,” Julie gasps, and shoves at Mike’s shoulder. “Stop.”

He turns back to her, looking dismayed, though his hand pulls away obediently. “But you didn't--”

“Yeah,” she says, pushing off him to kneel upright and tugging her t-shirt straight. “You're pretty distracted, cowboy, you keep slowing down or changing what you're doing.”

Mike looks away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, and his own hips shift and twitch. He's hard again, and Julie is breathing roughly, chewing on her lip, and Texas is being remarkably patient instead of shoving his hard-on at someone, but he obviously wants the attention too, and Chuck can only touch one of them at a time.

Julie catches his eye. Chuck isn't sure what's on his face, if she can tell his mouth is watering to be used on _someone_ , but it makes her smile slowly at him.

“Hey, Chuck,” she says. “You think you could help me out?”

He swallows and nods a lot. “I, um, I'm not, like, really good or anything--”

She drops back on her elbows and spreads her legs and his voice cuts out. “That's okay,” she says, “I can tell you what to do.”

Chuck doesn't _quite_ scramble to get to her, but he doesn't hesitate either. “Can I kiss you first?” he says, trying not to stare between her legs where she's all wet and flushed.

Julie laughs breathlessly. “You can kiss me the whole time, I don't care if you use your fingers or your mouth.”

“I'm definitely better with my mouth,” Chuck admits.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Julie groans, and hauls him down into a kiss.

“Hey Mike,” Dutch says, behind Chuck. “You need some help, there?”

Mike's laugh is half a moan. “Wouldn't mind, yeah.”

“You need it to be me?” Dutch asks.

“Uh, no? You're both--either? Is fine.”

“I'll wait, then. He's all yours, Texas.”

“Heck yeah, I got you, Tiny,” Texas says hastily, and there's a rustle and shift as he and Mike get ready.

Chuck pulls away from Julie, breathing just as hard as she is, and pops the button on his jeans as he moves down her body, because seriously the pressure on his aching hard-on is gonna kill him. Unzipping, he sighs in relief, then puts his hands on Julie’s thighs and ducks to get his tongue on her.

Julie moans gratefully, and a second later Mike moans, deeper and just as relieved. Chuck glances back briefly to see Mike on his back, legs hooked over Texas’s broad shoulders as Texas drives into him, scowling with concentration. Dutch is sitting next to them, running his fingers through Mike’s hair and occasionally pulling it, making him gasp. Mike looks just about out of his mind, eyes unfocused, moving eagerly with Texas.

Wow, Chuck could definitely use to come sometime soon. 

Julie wiggles pointedly and he goes back to licking her steady and quick, her hips twitching as she pants.

“N-not--quite so--hard,” she gasps, and he softens his tongue without changing anything else. “Oh god yes, ah--”

“I know why _I_ ’d know how to do that,” Dutch says, “but I'm not clear about you, man.”

Yeah, well, Chuck may have strategically edited his sexual experiences for Dutch’s consumption. The guy seemed startled enough by the whole ‘help a bro out’ thing; Chuck just had the feeling if he tried to explain that female bros like Ruby totally counted, it would only complicate the conversation.

“Fortunately,” Julie says breathlessly, “I get the--benefit of it--and the rest--is none of our business.”

Thank you, Julie. In appreciation, Chuck sucks gently on her clit and Julie’s heels slam against the mat.

“In!” she gasps. “One--finger--”

Chuck slides one long finger into the tight slick heat of her, crooks it and taps up against what should be the right spot, still working his tongue on her clit. Julie’s shaking under him, fingers digging into the mat.

“H-harder,” she says. “Inside.”

He changes tapping to thrusting and tries to keep his aim consistent, although it's hard with the added speed and force. He must do okay, though, because a moment later Julie goes rigid and cries out. Behind Chuck, Mike moans in response and Texas makes a hoarse noise.

“Dang,” Dutch murmurs. 

Chuck doesn't change what he's doing until the flutters and rippling under his tongue stops, and then he backs off, gentles, but keeps going. He manages to pull her into a second climax before she pushes weakly at his head and he stops. Warm with a certain amount of pride, he lets her pull him up to kiss her, although his tongue is kind of numb at this point.

“Okay,” Julie says when she pulls away, still breathing hard. “I was totally right, and now I'm smug. You are _really_ good with your mouth.”

Face heating, Chuck can't hold her gaze, but he smiles almost involuntarily as he grabs a tissue and wipes off his fingers. He didn't expect her to like it so much, expected a dismissive response at best, which this is like the opposite of. Possibly he needs to work harder on ignoring his anxiety right now, since he's in the middle of an orgy with four gorgeous people who all weirdly enough seem to really like him. Pessimism is not helping to prepare him for anything that's happening today.

“So, you helped me out,” Julie says, grabbing her own tissue to clean up. “Do I get to help you?”

Chuck almost chokes, staring at her. She _wants_ to? Julie wants to touch him?

She sits up, curling her legs under her, and tucks her hair behind her ear, smile shrinking a little. “I'll admit I don't have much experience at it, but Mike didn't have any complaints. Not that I was gonna use a strap-on on you!” she adds hastily when Chuck makes a faint squeaking noise. “I've done, I mean, I know I'm good at _that_. I just mean, experience with boys. Handling dicks. But it seems to be going okay so far.”

It sounds almost like she's nervous, which is bizarre, because Julie is never nervous or unsure, she's absolutely confident. Chuck stares at her another second and feels part of his worldview flip dizzyingly. Julie _does_ get nervous, apparently, and she's worried Chuck doesn't want her to touch him, won't let her.

Saying it feels like stepping off a building, going into freefall, but he's safe here, he knows it. Fuck what anxiety has to say.

“Yes,” he says, high and unsteady like a complete loser, but the delighted look on Julie’s face suggests she didn't notice that she really shouldn't want to touch him, is way out of his league.

“Awesome!” She leans closer and kisses him, then straightens, bright-eyed. “So, can I get you out of your shirt?”

He stares. “Why would you want to?”

She rolls her eyes. “The same reason you might want me lose mine.”

Chuck holds up a finger, _one problem_. “Except I don't have boobs, and I'm not good-looking like--” everyone else here, he’s about to say, when Julie puts a hand over his mouth.

“Nope, remember rule number one,” Julie says. “Don't be a jerk, and it counts even to yourself. Everyone here thinks you're hot, remember? So, answer the question.”

Chuck looks over at Dutch and the others like that's going to help. From the look of it, Texas is getting close, head down as he thrusts into Mike at a quick pace. Mike is moaning, muffled around Dutch’s fingers, which slide gently in and out of his mouth, and Dutch looks up to meet Chuck’s eyes, smile hopeful.

Swallowing as renewed heat sweeps over him in a wave, Chuck nibbles on his lip a moment and takes a chance. “I'll take mine off if you will too.” She's still wearing her shirt, she has to be reluctant to get rid of it, doesn't she?

Julie nods, reaches for the hem of her shirt, peels it off and tosses it onto Mike’s bed. Her bra follows it and she gives Chuck a defiant smile, sitting very straight and upright.

Crap. Chuck should’ve known better than to think challenging Julie would work out in his favor. He manages to tear his eyes away from her breasts and meets her gaze. Closing his eyes, he reluctantly pulls off his shirt, moving slowly.

He doesn't want to look up, but he does anyway. Julie is smiling at him, not seeming put off at all by how skinny and bony and not built he is, shirtless with his pants open. He glances over and Dutch is staring like he wants to memorize Chuck, dark eyes hungry. That's right, he's got some weird thing for Chuck’s collarbones.

“I want to bite your hips,” Julie says, half to herself.

Chuck sucks in an unsteady breath. “Um,” he squeaks, “maybe not yet?”

“No,” Julie agrees hastily. “Only when you're okay with it.” She smiles, lifts a hand and stops herself. “Can I touch you?”

Chuck is breathing in to agree when Texas groans and Mike cries out. He looks and Texas is hunched over Mike, shuddering, hips jerking erratically, Dutch’s hand moving on Mike’s dick, coaxing him through his own orgasm. Mike's mouth is open, his lashes fluttering, and he looks-- _wow_. Chuck wants to be the one to make him feel that good.

Chuck’s sigh comes out kind of choked and he just nods to Julie. His dick is going to explode if someone doesn't touch it soon.

“Great!” Julie says, and glances back at Mike and Texas for a hungry second before putting her hands on Chuck’s skin. “You're going to tell me if you need me to stop, right?” she adds.

Chuck nods, gulping as her hands slide over his stomach, up his ribs. His skin prickles with heat.

“Good,” she says, and kisses him. Her hands slide back down his body until they reach the waistband of his boxers, and push them and his open jeans down past his hips. Chuck clings to her shoulders, kissing her desperately and keeping his eyes closed. Then her hand wraps around his dick and he makes an awful needy broken noise and he can't keep not looking, his brain is telling him everyone's giving him scornful looks and he has to open his eyes and check.

Julie has her lip caught in her teeth and her eyes on what she's doing as she starts stroking him, a little clumsily, figuring out angle and grip and speed. He looks over and Dutch is watching him and Julie intently, stroking Mike’s hair and smiling, brown cheeks flushed. Mike has Texas sprawled half over him in a surprisingly cute cuddle, but his eyes are on Chuck, half-lidded and pleased.

They don't mind, somehow, they don't think his noises are pathetic-- The memory from like an hour ago comes back to him as if it was days past, Texas saying he'd bet Chuck sounds even better in bed.

Chuck shivers and whimpers, bucking into Julie’s hand. He's been dripping the whole time they've been in here, and the more she touches him the slicker it gets as precome slides down his dick. Everyone is watching and into this, into _him_ , and he's been waiting to come for roughly a year, and Julie has this breathless, excited, determined look on her face as she strokes him, and Chuck hangs on maybe another minute before gasping a cry and coming.

Mike hums a hungry, satisfied noise.

Dutch breathes out hard. “Dang, man,” he murmurs. “Nice goin’.”

“Thank you,” Julie says smugly. 

Sagging against her and heaving for breath, Chuck huffs weakly into her slim shoulder. “Don't hafta sound so pleased with yourself,” he mumbles. “Not like it's _hard_ t’ blow m’ mind.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Julie says, still sounding just as smug and cheerful. “But it's an awful lot of fun.” She puts her mouth right next to his ear and says very quietly, barely breathing the words, “Sometime I'm going to open you up with my fingers, get you so desperate you can't even hold yourself up. I bet I can make you scream like Mike just took you off a jump at four hundred miles an hour and you _liked_ it.”

Chuck lets out an involuntary whimper and shivers. “Oh my god,” he says thinly.

“Don't scare him, Jules,” Mike says from his cuddle pile.

“I'm not!” Julie says. She ruffles Chuck’s hair with her other hand.

Chuck dares to kiss her shoulder, just a little peck, before sitting up, and she gives him a pleased smile. “Hey, Mikey,” he says without really thinking about it, and then catches up to himself and has to swallow before he can go on, “I--can I kiss you? Some more?”

Mike perks eagerly. “Yeah, of course, buddy! C’mere.”

Chuck tugs his jeans back up and closed first, face going hot when Dutch sighs at him like he's disappointed, like he likes having Chuck mostly naked. It's weird, and Chuck isn't sure how to deal with it, so he ignores it, moving over and curling up beside Mike to kiss him for a while. Dutch goes from stroking Mike's hair to alternating between his and Chuck’s, fingers smoothing behind Chuck’s ears and down the back of his neck.

No wonder Mike likes this, it's oddly calming. Chuck finds himself kissing slow and languid, running his tongue delicately over the sharp points of Mike’s fangs and behind them. Mike hums against his lips, one hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

After a few minutes, Texas leans up on one elbow next to them and says, “Hey, uh, Chuck. You gotta get naked sometime, cuz Texas wants to grab your butt, and it's not gonna work right in those dumb tight jeans.”

“Texas,” Dutch says in annoyance, “no he doesn't. Chuck doesn't have to get naked unless he wants to, okay?”

Texas huffs. “Yeah, I _know_ , I'm just _sayin_ ’.”

Chuck has to break away from kissing Mike, suddenly overcome with a fit of giggles. “Oh my god,” he snickers. “You guys are all crazy.”

Dutch snorts at him. “Man, we've been over this like, a bunch of times, now. If _all_ of us like you and wanna have sex with you, and you're the only one who thinks we _shouldn't_ want you, I'm pretty sure that means _we're_ not the ones who are crazy.”

“Wait, what?” Mike says, blinking. “We're crazy for liking Chuck?”

“Oh no,” Chuck says with a helpless grin. “ _You're_ absolutely crazy for all _kinds_ of reasons, Mikey. The other three are the ones without an excuse.”

Julie snorts.

“How about, you're really great, and they're smart enough to notice?” Mike suggests, and Chuck rolls his eyes and kisses him again to stop him talking.


	7. Happy and sex-drunk and grinning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter now betaed and improved!

After a bit, Dutch makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat and Mike pulls away from kissing Chuck to look up at him. “You about ready for something, buddy?” Mike says.

“Yeah,” Dutch says. Lying here, Chuck is almost at the right level to start with and can't keep his eyes from flickering to Dutch’s hard-on, which is flushed and looks pretty damn ready, yeah. Chuck kind of wants to play with it, but Mike has first claim.

“Doesn't look like you need it quite yet, though,” Dutch says, and Mike rolls his eyes.

“Like I mind, dude, come on, we've been over this.” Mike pats Texas on the shoulder and Texas huffs and shifts off him so Mike can sit up. One hand slides over Texas’s shoulders in absent appreciation even as Mike grins at Dutch. “You know I like it even when I don't need it. ‘Sides, I will soon enough.”

Dutch grins back, looking a little sheepish. “I just didn't wanna interrupt,” he says with an apologetic glance at Chuck.

Chuck sits up as Mike says, “Aw, it's all good--right, buddy?” he adds to Chuck.

“Hmm,” Chuck says, grabs Mike by the hair and kisses him fiercely, heart speeding up even though Mike's _got_ to like it rough like this, Dutch was pulling his hair earlier. Mike moans, startled, and grabs his shoulders, swaying into him, and the panic backs off again.

Mike is still staring at Chuck, kind of stunned with his pupils all blown, when Chuck pulls back and looks at Dutch, tilting his head. “Kiss tax,” he says, heart still going a little too fast because it feels like he's pushing it, they're not going to think he's cute enough to be willing to put up with this-- “You interrupted, you pay the tax,” he finishes, almost steadily.

Dutch huffs a startled laugh. “Like I'm gonna argue with that,” he says, and leans forward to kiss Chuck with enthusiasm. Wow, that actually _worked_.

Chuck doesn't mean to keep Dutch for more than a moment, but he moans so nicely when Chuck starts playing with his earlobes, it's just a lot of fun. Very distracting.

“ _Ngh_ , god,” Dutch gasps, finally pulling away. “That's enough of that, or I'm not gonna last long enough to get Mike anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Chuck says, twinge of guilt mostly swamped by smugness.

“Oh, yeah,” Dutch says, grinning at him. “You're so sorry you're smirkin’ at me.”

Chuck ducks his head, grinning, and then Texas edges over and demands to get in on the kissing, and then Julie’s there, and Chuck is aware that Mike and Dutch are doing their own thing off to the side, making soft noises together, but Texas and Julie are taking up all his attention. Texas is kissing Chuck and Julie’s sucking on his neck, her hands roaming slowly up his torso, and it's a lot of input, but Chuck isn't tensing up yet, isn't overloading. His anxiety is lower than he thought was possible in the middle of something like this, and it means he can actually handle the sensory stuff now--so far, at least.

Texas pulls back enough to pant a minute and gives Chuck a frown that looks less angry than focused, intent. “Can Texas grab your butt yet.”

Chuck hesitates and Julie huffs against his neck, mutters, “Texas, don't push it.”

“Texas ain't pushin’ nothing!” Texas protests. “That's why I'm _askin_ ’!”

“I'm not taking off my pants,” Chuck says, a little too high, and Texas just nods, eyes on his face.

“Okay,” Julie says, sitting back from sucking a mark on his collarbone, “but you don't have to take them off. If you wanted, you could just push them down a little, because it does look like you've got a really nice butt and I'd kind of like to see. If you want to.”

Chuck stares from her to Texas and back. He hasn't spent much time looking at his own butt, to be fair, but he's pretty sure it's not that great. Julie’s just trying to convince him however she can that it's okay to get more naked.

The worrying thing is that it's working.

Mike makes a soft husky noise and Chuck glances back automatically. Mike is in Dutch’s lap, riding him with his eyes closed, and Dutch is nipping little marks all down the front of Mike's neck, one hand clenched in his hair. Smiling dreamily, Mike digs his nails into Dutch’s back and Dutch moans.

...On reflection, maybe it'd be okay to be a little more naked. At least enough to get Chuck’s very much awake again dick a little more room.

Chuck takes a deep breath and opens his jeans.

“Yeah, _Texas!_ ” says Texas.

“Actually I'm pretty sure it's ‘yeah Julie,’ but whatever,” Julie says, nibbling her lip with a little smile as Chuck nervously shoves his jeans down his thighs, leaving his boxers in place.

“Yeah, Julie!” Texas says promptly, and she gives him a startled sort of half-smile that he doesn't notice because he's frowning intently at Chuck again. “Okay so _now_ can Texas grab your--”

“Yes oh my god _fine_ ,” Chuck groans. “I don't know why you'd want to, but _ngk!_ ”

Both hands, of _course_ Texas goes for him with both hands, kneading and squeezing and nudging fingertips into the cleft in a way that makes Chuck kind of grateful he kept the boxers because _wow um._ Gasping for breath, he clutches at Texas’s shoulders, head spinning a little with how unexpectedly _good_ that feels.

“Dang, little guy,” Texas says, and makes a hungry noise in his chest. “Texas was totally right, you got a pretty good butt. Just right for grabbin’ and stuff.”

Julie makes her own hungry noise, her eyes on Texas’s hands, what they're doing. A shiver goes through Chuck and he lets out a shaky sound, unnerved and turned on by all the focused attention. They think he's hot and they want to touch him and it feels amazing and he doesn't understand at all, but that's stopped mattering so much, he doesn't care that he doesn't get it, it's just really good.

“You like this, don't you?” Julie murmurs, running a hand down Chuck’s back, and for a minute he's afraid she's going to slip under his waistband without asking, but she doesn't, she stops, slides back up his spine. “You like us touching you, letting you know how sexy you are--”

Chuck squeaks, twitching, and ducks to bury his face in Texas’s hair. “I'm _not_ ,” he mutters.

“Pshht, yeah, whatever dude,” Texas says, patting his butt with one hand while the other keeps kneading. Chuck shudders and gasps.

“Yeah, you don't really get a say,” Julie says, amused. “Sorry, Chuck, everyone else already decided. You're cute, and sexy, and you've got a really nice butt. And I kind of like your dick, too,” she adds thoughtfully.

Chuck makes a choking noise, hands tightening on Texas’s shoulders as everything just kind of glitches out with embarrassed bewilderment.

Texas’s hands go still. “Hey,” he says, sounding a little awkward. “Hey, uh, you need Texas to quit?”

Drawing one shaky breath after another, Chuck needs a moment to decide, but being asked helps settle him again. “No,” he says unsteadily. “No, I--it's okay.”

Julie kisses Chuck’s shoulder as Texas happily starts groping him again. “Too much at the same time?” she asks, and Chuck shrugs helplessly.

“Input unclear, please try again,” Julie says, smiling.

He huffs at her. “System incompatible with alternate universe, searching for updates. No updates found. System unable to run at full capacity until things make fucking _sense_.”

“Hey,” Mike says breathlessly behind him. “ _Nnh_ \--come on, Chuckles, watch the language, yeah?”

“Whatever, Mikey,” Chuck grumbles.

Grinning, Julie pretends to type on Chuck’s shoulder. “Update: you--are--sexy. Deal with it. Execute.”

“Virus has been isolated,” Chuck says primly, and Julie swats him, snickering. “Preparing to remove virus from database.” 

“You guys gotta stop talkin’ nerd stuff and do more kissin’ or something,” Texas says, squeezing pointedly so Chuck gasps and whimpers, hips twitching.

“Oh, is someone feeling left out?” Julie says, and reaches out to run a hand down Texas’s chest, tracing over his muscles. Her eyes are on what she's doing, narrowed like maybe she's annoyed to find Texas hot. Chuck knows the feeling.

Texas grunts softly, eyes going wide at Julie’s touch, and his hands stop moving on Chuck’s butt. “Uh--yeah, so what if Texas is?” he says a minute late.

“Well, maybe Texas should just say that next time,” Chuck says, feeling brave, and reaches around Texas to grab _his_ butt before remembering that he's supposed to ask first and freezing.

Texas gives him a startled look, but just shifts his shoulders and kind of shrug-nods like ‘yeah, fair’. “So?” he says. “Pretty good, huh?”

Chuck squeezes his round, muscular butt and swallows. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Your butt is completely unfair, basically, just like all the rest of you.”

He expects Texas to just nod, maybe take the opportunity to start boasting about how awesome and powerful his body is. Instead, Texas groans low in his chest, eyelashes fluttering, and leans up to kiss Chuck. Okay, wow, that's… unexpected.

Julie makes a little hum beside them and when Chuck glances sideways she's eyeing Texas, looking thoughtful. “Basically, yes,” she agrees. Her hand slides across Texas’s skin, curves around one pec and squeezes. “Unfair seems like the right word.”

Texas twitches and pulls out of the kiss gasping. “‘S unfair about it? Not like Texas got visited by the sexy-muscles fairy or some junk! Lookin’ like this takes a lotta work!”

...Huh. Logically that's true: Texas is always lifting weights and exercising and stuff, he spends hours every day on it. Somehow Chuck never really thought about it beyond ‘Texas’s weird habits’, though. There's no way he needs _that_ much sculpted muscle to be able to fight effectively, which means it's about the way it looks. Which means Texas spends a _lot_ of time working to look good. Honestly, that's… kind of cute.

Chuck slides his hands up Texas’s back, intrigued by the insight as he outlines rippling cords of muscle with his fingertips. No wonder the guy spends so much time flexing at people. And no wonder it gets to him so fast, having someone actually appreciate his muscles.

Julie gives a half-lidded smile, hand slipping down to grope Texas’s abs, very close to his hard red dick. “Maybe you're right,” she purrs. “You put so much work into it, maybe it's only fair you look this good.”

Texas’s eyes go round and he swallows hard, hips twitching. “Yeah,” he says, voice a little unsteady. “Yeah, right. Cuz Texas looks pretty awesome, right?”

Chuck slides his hands up onto Texas’s massive shoulders, fingers flexing to feel the weight and give of all that muscle. “You look _amazing_ ,” he admits, biting back his first response. _Yeah, you make me look like a skinny little wimp in comparison, which is only fair, since I am_. Not really fair to turn Texas’s moment into another argument about Chuck.

“Your muscles are _annoyingly_ sexy,” Julie says, and Texas’s eyes close as his hips jerk again.

He’s breathing hard, hands slowly flexing and shifting on Chuck’s butt, and Chuck waits for him to respond to Julie, but he doesn't say anything. When his eyes open, he just looks from Chuck to Julie and lets out a shaky breath.

His own eyes widening, Chuck licks his lips. Overwhelmed is a _really_ good look on Texas. Chuck glances sideways at Julie and her eyes have narrowed in a predatory smile like she agrees.

Dutch abruptly moans, sharp and loud, and Chuck looks to see him slamming up into Mike, hands tight on his hips, eyes squeezed shut. Mike’s moans are a lot quieter until Dutch finishes and goes still, panting, and then Mike whines aloud.

Julie looks over immediately. “You need someone to step in for Dutch, help you out?”

“I, yeah but--please, I need to--somebody bite--”

“Oh,” Julie says, looking tempted, but then glances back at Texas, clearly torn. 

“Gonna have to give me a second,” Dutch gasps, and Julie nudges Chuck.

“Sounds like your cue, if you want it. Go claim your boyfriend.”

 _Oh_. It takes Chuck by surprise how good that sounds, a surge of possessiveness flooding him. Mike was his friend before they'd met any of the rest of the Burners, he _is_ Chuck’s, even if Chuck is totally willing to share.

He catches Dutch’s eyes and Dutch nods, hazy with afterglow. 

“Yeah, okay,” Chuck says huskily, staring at Mike, and Mike whimpers eagerly and scrambles out of Dutch’s lap. Texas lets go of Chuck so Chuck can move over there, tugging his jeans hastily back up, and then he has a naked Mike tugging him closer, turning to face away, bending his neck, all with a shaky chant of “ _Please, please, please_ \--”

Okay, he can do this, no problem. Okay. Chuck leans forward, sets his teeth in the back of Mike’s neck, and bites down until Mike stops whining and goes stiff with a soft, shocked noise.

“Oh,” he says, “ _Chuck!_ ” and cries out, coming in wave after wave of shudders, one hand fastened tight on Chuck’s hip behind him. Chuck doesn't let go until Mike’s grip loosens, the shudders slowing, evening out into the occasional aftershock.

Holy shit. Chuck takes a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes for a second. Some of the stuff he read on the wer forums makes sense now. That was… intense.

Panting, Mike slumps back against him, then shifts position, turning until he can press his face against Chuck’s neck to a startled squeak. He's breathing against Chuck’s skin, soft puffs of warm air on his neck with Mike's lips _right there_ and Chuck is not the one who just got off and oh _geez_ that's--nngh. He shifts his weight a little and tries to ignore the hopeful throb of his dick, wrapping his arms cautiously around Mike as Mike melts against him.

“ _Chuck_ ,” Mike murmurs, and shivers, breathing in deep. “Smell so good, buddy…”

Chuck snorts, lips curving wryly. He's pretty sure anyone but a wer would disagree, and maybe even anyone but a wer who happens to have picked him as a mate, but Mike is too adorable to argue with right now.

“Hey,” Dutch says, swiping a tissue over the wet spots on the mat. He tosses the tissue on the floor and gives Chuck an uncertain smile. “Can I, uh, get in on this?”

Equally uncertain, Chuck nods, reluctantly loosening his arms in case that actually means ‘steal Mike’ because Dutch _was_ the one just having sex with him, he deserves cuddles if he wants them. Dutch just sits on the other side of Mike, though, and wraps his arms around them both. Mike makes a little contented noise, turning his head to breathe Dutch in too.

It's nice, holding each other like this. Chuck likes it, even if he'd like it a lot more if he wasn't ridiculously turned on right now.

Texas catches his breath and Julie gives a pleased hum. Chuck looks around and finds Texas with his hands cupping Julie’s breasts, looking flushed and wide-eyed and like he's not quite sure what to do with himself. Julie’s still running her hands over Texas’s muscles, squeezing his thighs, his biceps, his pecs, while he groans softly, hips jerking.

Chuck bites his lip, takes another deep, careful breath.

“Oh,” Mike murmurs, and nudges his head against Chuck’s shoulder. “Hey, you wanna…?”

Chuck makes an embarrassing kind of choked noise and stares at him. “Wha--now?! Mikey, I'd be _done_ by the time you were ready again!”

“Mm,” Dutch says in a thoughtful tone. “You wanna get him close first? Hold out a little longer? Or you just want a hand now?”

“I--” Chuck’s voice cuts out and he has to swallow. Honestly, he wants to get in Mike right now, but he really _doesn't_ want to come first like a loser, doesn't want to hear that desperate note in Mike’s voice before someone else helps him out.

“Ah, no, I--I can wait. If, um. If you want me next,” he says to Mike.

Mike’s breath shivers out and he clutches at Chuck. “Buddy,” he says, half laughing and half desperate, “you've got no idea how much I want you. If you're ready, I--whatever you want, dude, _please_.”

Chuck breathes in and finds himself staring helplessly at Dutch, who tilts his head.

“You want a hand gettin’ him goin’ again?”

“Oh,” Chuck says, “yeah.” He gives Dutch a breathless, grateful grin and Dutch grins back.

“Hey, Julie,” Texas says, out of breath and badly faking a casual tone, “you wanna touch Texas’s--”

“No,” Julie says thoughtfully, “I don't think I do right now.”

Chuck isn't looking. He has things about to happen right here, he doesn't need to watch Texas and Julie.

“Oh,” Texas says, sounding a little at a loss. “Okay, uh, then Texas is just gonna--”

“No,” Julie says, and Chuck gives in and looks over to see her with a restraining hand on Texas’s wrist as he was apparently reaching for his dick. Julie nibbles her lip, looking excited and uncertain, and says, “I do want to touch you, just not there.”

“Cool,” Texas says, perking up, and Chuck bites his own lip, eyebrows rising. Is the guy not even going to ask--?

“I wanna finger you,” Julie says in a rush. Oh _wow_.

Texas’s mouth drops open. “Uh!” He glances sidelong at Chuck and the others and Chuck waits for the protest, some macho bluster about how Texas doesn't _take_ it, he just gives it. Chuck has to admit, intriguing as the idea is, he can't really form a mental image--his imagined Texas keeps either refusing or changing into Mike.

Swallowing visibly, Texas looks back to Julie and shifts his shoulders in a sort of shrug. “‘Kay,” he says, dark eyes wide, but jaw determined.

“ _Awesome_ ,” Julie says, and kisses him as Chuck tries to stop gaping.

...Chuck is definitely done trying to predict anything today. He would never have seen that coming.

Dutch also seems kind of stunned and distracted, but when Mike leans over to kiss his collarbone, he snaps out of it quick. “Hey,” he says, smiling at Mike, and leans down to nip at his neck. Mike hums and arches in Chuck’s arms. Yeah, okay, time to try some stuff.

As previously observed, Mike likes being bitten and hauled around by the hair as much as he likes kissing and sucking and everything else. Unfortunately, turning him on makes him moan and writhe, which doesn't do anything to help Chuck’s own condition.

“Oh my god, dude,” he groans after a while, “could you stop being so sexy for like, five minutes?”

Mike gives a gasping laugh that breaks into an unsteady noise, loud and wanting, as Dutch grabs his wrists and pins them together with one hand. Breaking his grip would be easy for Mike, Dutch is no match for wer strength, but that obviously doesn't matter by the way Mike’s mouth falls open and his legs twitch apart a little more. Chuck swallows, hands hungry on Mike’s stomach, his thighs. 

It takes Mike a minute to collect himself enough to respond. “I'm not the one who's--oh, oh geez, _ah_ \--who's, um--you guys are the ones touchin’ me! I'm just…” He trails off to moan softly, distracted by the marks Chuck is sucking onto his inner thigh.

Dutch starts laughing. “You just happen to be here, huh? Not your fault we keep doin’ things that make you make crazy-sexy noises and stuff?”

Mike shoots him a distracted grin. “Yeah! ‘Zactly. Oh _god_ , Chuck, please!”

Chuck licks Mike’s hardening dick again, since the first lick went well, and then experimentally puts the tip in his mouth. It's a little awkward, but not nearly as unpleasant as he's previously been led to believe, and when he sucks, the noise Mike makes is _really_ satisfying.

Off to the side, Texas is breathing hard, and after the third bitten-off grunt or gasp in a row, Chuck has to lift his head and look. Texas is kneeling up with his legs spread, Julie sitting behind him with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand working fingers into him. Her cheeks are flushed and she's biting her lip, intent and focused, smiling a little. Texas’s hands are flexing against his thighs and he looks like he's not really sure what he thinks of this, but his hips are twitching eagerly.

“Julie,” he says hoarsely, “come on, Texas has gotta--”

“No, don't touch, not yet,” Julie says, and Texas groans in frustration, hands balling into fists.

“Come _on_ , it's gonna fall off--”

“No it won't,” Julie snickers, and pauses. Chuck goes back to cautiously practicing sucking Mike’s dick, and then almost chokes when Julie says, “Beg me for it.” She actually sounds a little _too_ firm, like maybe she's not sure of herself and trying to cover it up.

Texas makes a startled sound. “Wha?”

Julie takes an audible breath, says more calmly, “Ask me nicely to touch your dick and let you come. Come on, Mike begs so prettily, is he really better at it than you?”

There's a moment where Chuck thinks that can't possibly work. Texas is frowning, looking even more conflicted than he did, and he's not the smartest sometimes, but even he's not gonna go for bait that obvious, surely.

Then he takes a deep breath and says, “Uh. Please? Please touch Texas’s dick.”

Julie lets out a hard breath, biting her lip, eyes hooded. “Again. Say my name.”

“Julie,” Texas says, frown determined, “please touch Texas’s dick, okay?”

Chuck has to bite his own lip to keep from snorting with laughter because it's just--it's so _Texas_ , and possibly the least sexy request for sex Chuck can imagine. And yet somehow, it still kind of works, because he's doing what Julie wants just because she asked, and that's weirdly hot.

Julie reaches around Texas and brushes fingertips over his dick so he grunts, hips jerking forward. “Keep begging,” she says, and does something that makes Texas’s hips twitch and shudder back against her.

“ _Please!_ ” Texas says, equal parts frustrated and desperate, “Come on, Sher-- _Julie_ , please, it's gonna like blow up or something!”

Under Chuck’s hands, Mike wiggles and makes a similarly complaining noise. “Chuck, come on, buddy.”

It's not Chuck’s fault that ridiculously sexy things are happening all around him, but he ought to focus a little better for Mike’s sake. Maybe it'll be easier if he--yeah.

Sticking two fingers in his mouth, Chuck pulls them out wet to a whimper from Mike, whose round eyes are fixed on Chuck’s hand. His back arches, eyes falling shut entirely, when Chuck carefully presses his fingers in where Mike’s already a little slick from leftover lube. God, Mike likes this so _much_ \--his face is flushed, his mouth open and gasping with husky moans, and Chuck is the one making him feel that way.

Well, Chuck and Dutch, but Dutch is just helping, not making him fall apart.

Chuck thrusts a few times experimentally, then realizes by the tone of Mike’s moaning that he hasn't quite got it right. He gives Dutch a worried look--is he doing it wrong?--and Dutch blinks, then straightens a little, one hand in Mike’s hair, the other holding his wrists together behind his back as he lies sprawled against Dutch. 

“Oh, right, you haven't--there's this one spot you wanna go for,” Dutch says, and describes exactly what to do. Chuck follows his instructions, which makes Mike gasp and writhe in a much more satisfying way.

Off to the side, Texas has finally gotten close enough to what Julie wants for her to give him what _he_ wants, and he's panting breathlessly, mumbling half-coherent pleas as she strokes his dick. Dark eyes hot and intent, she rests her cheek against his back, hands moving in concert on either side of him.

Mike is moaning on Chuck’s fingers and Dutch is looking a little flushed as he licks his lips, and Chuck may possibly have misjudged, here, maybe he should’ve gotten off when Dutch offered before, because if he's not careful he's gonna come in his pants. That's not gonna be much less humiliating than coming the minute he gets into Mike. He takes a deep breath and barely keeps from groaning.

“How you doin’, man?” Dutch says, eyebrows lifting in a wry little quirk.

“Ngh,” Chuck says.

“There a reason you can't come right now and then do Mike when you get up again?” Dutch asks.

“Yeah, I don't wanna be a _loser_ ,” Chuck groans.

Dutch snorts. “Man, no one thinks you're a loser for wantin’ to come, geez.”

Chuck twists his lips and keeps his eyes down, and Dutch sighs.

“Whatever you're worryin’ about, we probably haven't even thought about it, okay? Just--chill, and don't, like, suffer, just because of something you think we're thinkin’.”

Chuck looks up at him for that, checking his face. He looks serious, a little exasperated, and not at all secretly scornful or judging.

Mike shifts and Chuck realizes his fingers have gone still, guiltily starts moving again until Mike whimpers, one hand flailing out toward Chuck’s arm. “ _Ah_ \--wait--”

He gasps for breath when Chuck obediently pauses. Dazed gold eyes take a moment to focus on Chuck’s face. “Can I suck you off?” Mike says breathlessly.

“ _Hngk!_ ” says Chuck, and has to concentrate on breathing.

“I just--if you wanna get off,” Mike goes on, “I really really wanna taste you, so that'd be great.”

“Oh my _god_ , Mikey,” Chuck whimpers, clinging desperately to control. He takes a deep breath. “I thought you--but--are you sure?”

“Yeah, dude, I'm so sure,” Mike says, gasping a little and twitching.

Chuck bites his lip and looks helplessly back at Dutch, who gives him an encouraging nod. “Oh my god,” Chuck says on a shaky sigh. “Okay. This is gonna take like, two seconds and then I'm going to die, but--”

“Chuck,” Mike says, low and intense, catching his eyes. “I really want to make you come. I don't care if it's quick, dude--”

Chuck lets out a strangled noise and just freezes, eyes clamping shut as his body shivers on the verge. He is _not_ going to come just from that, he refuses. He trembles there on the edge a long few seconds before it draws away again, leaving him twitching and possibly more desperate than he really should be.

“Dang, man,” Dutch says, and Chuck blinks at him, startled by the hungry look. “Can I help?”

“Wha--uh? S-seriously? I mean I guess?”

“Awesome,” Dutch says, and lets Mike’s wrists go. 

Chuck carefully pulls his fingers out of Mike and just as Mike starts to scramble up to his knees, Texas makes a low, hoarse sound and they both glance over to see him come, fists clenched, eyes closed and mouth hanging open. Julie’s cheeks are flushed as she strokes him through it, teeth set in her lip.

Letting out a careful breath, Chuck looks away and yanks his jeans and underwear down. That grabs Mike's attention back from Texas and Julie. He makes an eager little growly noise and basically pounces on Chuck’s dick. Chuck whines helplessly, fingers clenching in Mike’s hair. He'll be lucky if he lasts a minute like this.

*

Mike has been waiting for just about forever to touch Chuck. Kissing him was great, having him touch Mike was really good, having him _bite_ Mike was _incredibly_ good, but right now, having his taste on Mike’s tongue, his smell all around, hot and wanting and familiar and _right_ \--this is the best.

Dutch moves over beside Chuck and leans in to kiss him, and he smells good too, warm and right and necessary. Mike isn't hungry for Dutch like he is for Chuck, though, like he wants to rub himself against Chuck all over until they both smell right. He's kind of already done that with Dutch, and Julie and Texas too, but Chuck’s been all shy, which is fine, Mike would never want to push him. Mike’s just _really_ relieved he's finally okay with this.

Chuck makes this high shaky noise when Mike takes him all the way down, and yelps when Mike swallows around him, and wow, he just keeps getting louder, high groans and cracking whimpers and cries, hands tight in Mike’s hair. It's _awesome_ , cute and familiar but hotter like this than ever before. After this, Mike’s never going to react the same again to that startled yelp. 

God, Chuck tastes so good.

Dutch is touching Chuck too, hands sliding over his skin while Dutch kisses his neck, and Mike can't really watch while he's busy sucking on Chuck, but what Dutch is doing definitely seems to be working. Chuck keeps twitching and making shivery noises that aren't about anything Mike's doing, between the louder sounds Mike gets from him.

“That's it, man,” Dutch murmurs in Chuck’s ear. “Just let go, all right? You're so sexy like this, you got no idea.”

Chuck shudders and makes a protesting noise even as his hips jerk into Mike’s mouth.

“Nope, we already all agreed, remember?” Dutch says, amused. “You're sexy, and now you gotta come for us.”

The flavor on Mike’s tongue gets stronger suddenly, Chuck’s hips shuddering forward as he whimpers. Wow, he really liked that. “Dutch!” he gasps, “Oh my god.”

Mike hums, pleased, working his tongue, and Chuck makes a choked sound and curls forward, the taste of him flooding Mike’s mouth as he comes. It's good, god, it's so good, and Mike swallows and keeps sucking gently until Chuck’s done.

He doesn't really want to stop, but they're not really stopping, are they, so much as pausing. That's okay. Mike’s not done, yet, the need driving him to touch and get close, rub himself against his Burners until they smell right, until he smells of them all over, it's not satisfied yet, but that's okay, he doesn't have to be done yet.

Chuck sags and Dutch pulls him close, coaxes Chuck to lean into him. Mike flops over to sort of lounge against their knees, breathing their scents in. Want winds him tighter with every passing moment, but he can control himself, he can give Chuck some breathing space.

“Hey, Chuckles, you really wanna keep those jeans on?” he asks after a minute. “Can't be comfy, dude.”

“Mnrgh,” Chuck says blearily. “Oh. Wha--really, dude? What's with you guys wanting me to get naked?”

Dutch snorts. “Man, what did I _just_ say about you bein’ sexy?”

Chuck’s flush darkens and he ducks his head. “You're all delusional,” he mumbles, but he's smiling a little. “But. I guess, since you're obviously already hallucinating, you're not gonna notice that I'm not actually good-looking--”

“Uh-uh,” Julie says in chorus with Dutch. “No bad-mouthing yourself!” she goes on. “We discussed this, remember?”

Chuck huffs, but clambers up onto his knees to shove his pants and underwear down further, then leans back against Dutch and Mike eagerly helps get him completely naked. He doesn't mean to climb into Chuck’s lap after that, frantically kissing him, it just ends up that way somehow. Mike doesn't really notice the steady whimpering noise until Chuck breaks off the kiss to press his forehead against Mike’s.

“Shh, come on, bro, you're okay,” he murmurs, and Mike swallows hard, choking off the whimpers, embarrassed and annoyed with himself and _wanting_ so bad-- “You need some help?” Chuck asks. “I can give you a hand,” and one freckled hand wraps around Mike’s dick, strokes once.

Mike’s hips stutter forward and he groans between his teeth.

“You gonna need more than that?” Dutch asks, and Mike looks up at him and nods, pleading with his eyes.

A minute later he's up on his knees, Dutch’s long, clever fingers stroking up inside him while Chuck works his dick. Mike isn't really paying attention to what's coming out of his mouth, but he knows he's making a lot of noise, whining and shaking and clutching at Chuck’s shoulders. When he comes, he kind of collapses on Chuck, shivering and nuzzling closer and closer until Chuck huffs softly and shifts to put Mike between him and Dutch. Then he and Dutch are both hugging Mike close and everything is better.

Texas sighs, watching from beside Dutch with Julie. “Dang, Tiny. This heat thing almost gives you the stamina to keep up with Texas!”

Dutch snorts and Chuck mumbles something dubious, but Mike just gives Texas a hazy grin. God, life is good with his pack warm and snuggling around him, all skin against skin, safe and contented.

He enjoys it as long as he can, but it seems like a very short time before he's shifting restlessly again. He's been able to just go along until now, enjoying the sex and making his friends feel good, but everyone's already gone a couple rounds and they're getting tired and Mike’s body is still demanding more. It sucks. He doesn't want to be the guy pushing people around, making demands, acting like he has a right to sex-- _really_ doesn't want to do that to Chuck, who's the one he wants most right now--but the heat doesn't really give him a choice.

He still ignores it as long as he can, until Chuck makes a little squeaky noise and Mike realizes he's been hitching his hips back and forth in tiny jerks, rubbing against Chuck’s bare thigh. Breathing harshly, he makes himself go still.

“Um,” Chuck says, flushed red.

“Mike?” Dutch says.

“You ready, cowboy?” Julie asks, and Mike can't say he's _not_ , and can't say again that he feels like he's forcing them all into this. Dropping his forehead against Chuck’s shoulder, he nods.

“And you still, um, do you still want me to, uh…?” Chuck says.

“Only if you want to,” Mike says hoarsely, without lifting his head.

Chuck gives a startled snort. “Oh, right! Like anybody _wouldn't_ want to, seriously, dude.”

That's--good, better, but there's still that niggling worry that of _course_ he'd say that, he knows otherwise Mike won't relax and they need to get this over with--

“Oh,” Dutch says, and strokes Mike’s back. “Remember our talk about this, man? You're the only one gettin’ pushed around by your heat. The rest of us are here cuz we wanna be.”

Mike looks up at Chuck, uncertain, and Chuck’s jaw drops. “Oh my god, Mikey, seriously? You've still got doubts about _me?_ I'm the one who makes _sense_ here, everybody agrees _you're_ hot and they wanna jump you.”

“Mm, right, yes,” Julie says, looking amused. “That goes both ways, Chuck.”

Nuzzling his jaw as he sputters at her, Mike breathes in Chuck and sweat and sex, happiness, arousal… and a surprisingly low level of anxiety. It loosens the grip of the tension clutching at his chest, lets him catch Chuck’s eye again, search his face and _believe_ it this time when Mike finds no sign of reluctance. He ducks in, catches Chuck in a kiss and doesn't pull back until Chuck is clutching at his shoulders, whimpering soft and intoxicating against him.

“Okay,” Mike says, breathless, and grins at him. “Let's do this.”

Chuck gasps a couple of times and sits upright with Dutch’s help. He reaches over to grab a condom and Mike doesn't say anything, isn't planning to protest, but Dutch looks at him, eyebrows going up, and puts a hand on Chuck’s shoulder.

“Uh,” Chuck says, staring at Mike. “Bro? There a problem?”

Mike takes a deep breath to make sure he's not making any weird noises or anything and tries to say ‘no’, but the word turns into a whine on the way out.

“Aw, don't be all sad now, Tiny,” Texas says. “You're gonna have more hot sex!”

“What's up, dude?” Chuck asks, and it's not really fair to the others, Mike ought to say it's fine, it's been fine this far--

He can't. He wants it too much, he can't ignore it even though he feels bad.

“No condom?” he says, pleading. “I wanna smell like you, it doesn't--I don't smell right. I--know it's not--fair,” he adds, looking guiltily at Dutch and Texas, “I'm sorry, it just--I couldn't figure out what was missing until just now.”

“Man, chill,” Dutch says, grinning at him. “I already got my smell everywhere on you last night, Chuck can do it now. And Texas can do it later,” he adds firmly. “Right?”

Texas scoffs, looking maybe a little jealous and covering it up, folding his arms. “Totally. Texas’ll get you smellin’ right in a heartbeat, like, after dinner or whatever.”

Mike looks between them, partly reassured, then uncertainly at Chuck, who's flushed pink but looks determined anyway as he drops the condom back in the box. “Yeah, Mikey, seriously, relax. We can do that, it's fine.”

Blowing out his breath, Mike pretty much tackles Chuck and kisses him hard. Chuck hums into it and kisses back, and Mike pulls away a little wild-eyed, breathing harder.

Hips twitching, he licks his lips, staring at Chuck. Chuck gives him a crooked smile and grabs the lube.

“It's okay, bro,” he says soothingly, slicking up, “we're good, I've got you.”

Grateful and almost dizzy with need, Mike flops onto his back and hooks his legs around Chuck, who flushes darker and shuffles forward until Mike's in his lap, hips tilted invitingly up. Chuck sets his teeth in his lip, grabs Mike and carefully nudges into him. Mike whines and shoves back, taking his dick all at once before the slow pace can drive him any crazier. Hands going bruising-tight on Mike’s hips, Chuck hisses through his teeth and holds still instead of _moving_ , instead of giving Mike what he needs, what he's going nuts without. Having Chuck in him is _good_ , it's so good, but it's not enough.

“Please,” he pants, “please, Chuckles, come on, I need--please--”

Chuck groans and finally moves, pulling back to shove into him again. Head snapping back against the mat, Mike moans deep in his chest and moves with Chuck, toes curling with each thrust. Heat and pleasure surge through him, the hunger demanding more.

“Can I help?” Julie says, and Mike’s eyes are closed, he's not really paying attention, but Chuck must have nodded, because cool, slender hands land on Mike's chest, stroking his overheated skin. He opens his eyes, gasping, and Julie smirks and pinches his nipples so he cries out and bucks against Chuck. Chuck lets out a high, shivery noise and goes still for a moment and Mike whines aloud.

“Okay,” Chuck gasps, and starts moving again. “ _God_ … ‘S okay, I got you.”

Mike is vaguely aware that Texas is talking to Dutch nearby, and then that Dutch is making husky noises, moaning softly, but he's preoccupied with Chuck moving in him, giving him exactly what he wants, and Jules touching him all teasing and hot and good. She slides her fingers into his mouth, thrusts a few times, and he groans and sucks on them. He's not sure it makes sense how much he likes that, but he really does.

Julie leans down and bites Mike's collarbone, starts nipping a trail down his front. When she reaches his chest and bites one nipple, Mike's back arches so hard his shoulders are all that's left touching the mat.

“Oh my god,” Chuck whimpers, and starts moving faster.

Mike has no objections at all, Chuck can pound him all day like this if he wants. It's good. Everything is good, with the need swallowed up in eager pleasure, Chuck’s smell all over Mike like it should be, and all his mates naked and pleased around him.

“ _Mmh_ \--ears, Texas,” Chuck pants, “suck on his earlobes, he likes that.”

“Awesome,” Texas says in satisfaction at the same time as Dutch huffs in protest. Then Dutch moans a lot louder than he has been, and Texas makes a smug noise. Mike glances hazily over to see Texas with one hand steadily stroking Dutch’s dick, kneeling up to get his mouth on an ear. Good, that's good. They can still feel good even when Mike’s not paying attention and can't help them out.

“Come on, cowboy,” Julie says, and bites his other nipple, making him gasp and whine, writhing. “Don't get distracted worrying about everyone else, we're taking care of it. You just concentrate on how good we're making you feel.”

Mike lets out half a breathless laugh, trailing into a moan. Like he really has a choice about that! He wants to say as much, but talking isn't an option right now, he can't hold on to words.

Chuck keeps moving in him, fast and good, and Julie bites and teases Mike until he’s loud and begging, incoherent with desperation.

“Hmm,” Julie says, dark-eyed and smirking. “I don't know, do you think I should help him out, Chuck?”

“ _Nnh_ \--probably,” Chuck says, gasping, hips never faltering as Mike bucks and twists under him, still whimpering pleas.

“Oh, _probably_ , that doesn't sound very definite,” she starts wickedly, and Chuck groans.

“C’mon, I can't-- _hahh_ \--spare a hand--please just--”

“Oh,” Julie says, and this time she sounds a little breathless. “Well, all right.”

She wraps a hand around Mike and strokes, and Mike yells out loud, back arching as he grinds up into the touch. Her grip is firm and she's moving almost too fast, but he squirms and gasps, wincing a little, and she slows it down just right, and then it's good, it's so good, with Julie and Chuck both touching him, feeling good, making him feel good. When he comes, it shakes him from his toes all the way out to the tip of the tail he doesn't have in this form.

Julie pulls her hand away and he lies there drifting contentedly as Chuck whimpers and gasps and comes. Mike waits until he finishes shivering through aftershocks, and then pulls him firmly down on top of him with a yelp. Breathing in, Mike fills his nose with the scent of sweat and pleasure and _Chuck_.

“Um!” Chuck says, stiff and tense in his arms. “Mikey, uh, I'm gonna, um. No condom, remember, we should probably clean up--”

“ _Nnf_ ,” Mike says, and refuses to loosen his grip. Chuck smells amazing, everything smells good, smells _right_ now. He's so glad Chuck agreed to ditch the condom, now Mike’s all slick and warm and smells right and definitely doesn't want to move.

Chuck relaxes slightly, his weight resting more solidly on Mike, warm and close. “Bro,” he says with mingled exasperation and amusement, “you're the one who's always cleaning things, I figured you wouldn't want to make a mess.”

“ _Muh_ ,” Mike contributes.

Chuck snorts at him. “I don't believe this. Guys, we did it, we wore Mike out until he doesn't care about being messy.”

“That, or it's the heat changin’ his priorities,” Dutch says breathlessly. Mike pries his eyes open and Dutch has a dazed smile as he leans against Texas, who looks a combination of smug and startled.

“Maybe both,” Chuck says, and kisses Mike’s collarbone. It's so thoughtlessly sweet Mike sucks in a breath, his chest aching. He loves Chuck so much, loves them all, is so amazed and grateful they agreed to be his mates.

“Look at you, cowboy,” Julie murmurs, running her fingers through Mike's hair, and he tilts his head into her hand and sighs contentedly. “All sticky and flushed and tousled. We've made a mess of you, haven't we?”

Mike's breath catches in his throat, and his eyes flutter open as a shiver goes through his body.

“Whoa,” Chuck says, blinking at him, and looks up at Julie. “...Huh.”

“Somebody liked that,” Dutch says with a tired chuckle.

“Yeah, but what part of it?” Chuck says, frowning thoughtfully at Mike.

Face going hot, Mike lets his eyes fall closed again so he doesn't have to meet that studying look.

“Is someone enjoying being a mess?” Julie asks teasingly, tugging gently on his hair, and Mike arches a little under Chuck, breath hissing out of him. “Or are you enjoying that we made you that way?”

Another little twitch of a shiver, and Chuck snorts. “Option C, all of the above, I think.”

Mike huffs at him and Julie tightens her hand in his hair, making him gasp as a shock of heat goes through his slowly recovering body. “What,” she says, “is Chuck wrong? You don't want to hear about how we've left you all slick and sticky and sweaty? How if you weren't wer, you'd be limping for the next couple days, covered in the bite marks and hickies we left on you?”

Mike whines softly, not daring to open his eyes. He _wishes_ , man, that sounds _great_. She leans down and lowers her voice, close and intimate in his ear.

“You don't want anyone to point out how you begged Chuck to fuck you bare, so he came in you, left you a dripping, satisfied puddle?”

The next whine comes out louder, but he still hears the shaky little noise Chuck makes, and the quiet huff from Dutch.

“Whoa,” Texas says.

“Geez,” Dutch says. “Watch it with the friendly fire, girl.”

“Mm,” Julie says. “Sorry.” She sounds very amused and not sorry in the least. “It's too bad you heal so fast,” she muses. “It'd be nice to mess you up properly, bruises on your hips, nail tracks on your shoulders.”

Dutch makes a low, hungry noise.

“Gotta mark our territory, right?” Julie goes on. “Make sure everyone knows you're _ours_.”

Mike moans out loud and his eyes come open to stare at her, check if she's serious, that she means it. She meets his eyes, her own clear and warm and steady.

“Come on, Mikey,” Chuck mumbles against Mike’s shoulder. “Like we're gonna let you get away now? Forget it. If we're your mates, you're ours. That's the deal.”

Which, yes, but not just that he's their mate. Mike hasn't talked with Chuck about his weird thing yet. Dutch didn't react so well at first, so Mike’s not sure Chuck will like it.

“Yeah, don't worry,” Dutch says, smiling at Mike, all warm affection. “We're gonna take good care of you. Cuz you _are_ ours, we… own you, right?”

He sounds a little tentative, saying it, but it's still enough to rip a gasp out of Mike. Fingers digging into Chuck’s back, he shudders all over, and instead of stopping and saying _Wait, we what?!_ Chuck gasps softly too.

“Oh,” Chuck says, high and breathless, “oh wow, bro.”

“And Julie’s right about the marks,” Dutch says, squinting in thought, “hickies fade way too fast on you to work. I wonder… You know, there's some kinds of ink that work on wer, don't just heal out but stick around. I bet I could learn to use a tattoo gun pretty easy--”

“Dutch!” Chuck says, leaning up on his elbows. “Dude, what the hell, that's _way_ more permanent than hickies!”

“Yeah, but...” Dutch says, and waves a defensive hand at Mike, who’s staring slack-jawed and amazed at him. Tattoos, marks from his mates that wouldn't ever fade, that would _stay_. Something to show, to look at and remember the hands in his hair, the teeth on the back of his neck, the warmth of his pack gathered around him.

God, yes, _please_. It comes out as a whimper, and Chuck sighs and leans down to kiss him gently.

“No one is making decisions about that right now,” Chuck says firmly. “You're still not thinking clearly from the heat,” he tells Mike, and turns to Dutch. “Come on, couldn't you just, like, draw on him with a pen or markers or something? That'd last about as well as a hickey.”

“Ooh,” Dutch says, attention caught. “I could totally check out my designs that way, see how they actually look on him.”

“I mean, yeah,” Chuck says, “and also you don't have to learn to use a completely new tool that way.”

“You realize I'm not just gonna grab a tattoo gun and try to use it on him right away, yeah?” Dutch says, raising an eyebrow. “I gotta get good with it first. Not like I wanna go givin’ him second-rate tats.”

“You better not,” Chuck mutters, and drops his weight back onto Mike, who goes _oof_ and then sighs contentedly. 

“You're going to need practice with it,” Julie says thoughtfully to Dutch.

“Oh, me!” Texas says. “Texas totally volunteers to have you practice on him! Texas needs some super tight inkwork, that's gonna be _awesome_.”

“Man, if I'm _practicing,_ it's not gonna be that tight to start out,” Dutch says with a rueful look. “I don't wanna do a crummy job on you either, okay?”

“You don't have to,” Julie says, a slow smile growing. She cocks her head at Dutch. “You said there are _some_ inks that work on wer. That means there are some that don't, right? So you could practice on Mike with those, and not worry about your beginner's mistakes hanging around.”

Open-mouthed, Dutch is frowning slightly, looking kind of stunned. He takes a breath like he's about to argue, lets it out again slow like he forgot what he was going to say, distracted. Mike doesn't blame him at _all_.

“Doesn't tattooing _hurt_ , though?” Chuck says.

“I don't care,” Mike says immediately, and his voice comes out kind of hoarse. “Sounds fine to me.”

“Think about it,” Julie murmurs to Dutch. “You could cover him with whatever designs you wanted, paint him up all pretty and bright, and do it all again a few weeks or a month later. Over and over, until you want to do it for good.”

Mike swallows, wide-eyed. To be Dutch’s canvas, to have all that creative intensity focused on him--and more than once, multiple times as he presses his mark into Mike’s body again and again--that's. Wow. Mike kind of wants to start _right now_. But Chuck wouldn't let them, even if Dutch had the equipment.

Eyes distant, Dutch lets out a husky noise, then shakes himself and narrows his eyes at Julie. “If you're tryin’ to turn me on again it's not gonna work,” he says. “I'm good, I'm done.”

“Right,” Chuck snorts, “because we all noticed howmuch it didn't work just now.”

“His dick’s done cuz Texas wore it out,” Texas says, patting Dutch on the butt, “but he's totally got a brain boner.”

Chuck snickers into Mike’s collarbone, Julie smirks, and Mike has to grin, even though Julie’s got him just as distracted and intrigued as Dutch. Rolling his eyes, Dutch huffs at Texas, pretending annoyance, but he's too relaxed for it to be convincing. They're all relaxed, happy and sex-drunk and grinning at each other, it's awesome.

“In the meantime, though,” Julie says, eyes on Mike, “we _could_ actually do something to keep you marked up. Whoever’s around just has to keep an eye on you, and as soon as the old marks fade, give you new ones in their place.”

Mike’s mouth opens as that plays out in his head, Texas walking up to him in the middle of the day, out in the garage or something, inspecting the side of his neck and then leaning up to give him a new hickey where the old one's gone. Chuck doing the same, hours later after dinner, maybe leaving a few more for good measure.

A shuddery noise comes out of him and Chuck blows out a breath. “I'm gonna call that a positive response,” he says, smiling wryly, and starts trying to shift off Mike.

Mike clings instinctively, and Chuck sighs at him. “Look, I'll come right back, bro, promise, but we're about to go from sticky to crusty, here, and you may be okay with that right now, but I'd rather not. Gimme one minute, okay?”

Biting back a whimper, Mike uncurls his fingers and lets go, and Chuck peels himself away with a grimace and stands up, steps away. Mike nibbles his lip and squirms, not wanting to sit up but twitchy in the sudden absence of skin contact. Julie is close but her hand in his hair has gone still, and Dutch and Texas are just sitting there.

“You need something, man?” Dutch asks, smiling down at him. “You look like it ought to be done, but--”

“Wait, he does?” Chuck says, glancing back at them as Mike blinks in startlement. “How can you tell?”

“Look at his teeth,” Dutch says. “See how his eyes are back to brown? How you feel, Mike?”

Mike takes a quick internal survey. Restlessness, a want for closeness, skin contact, touch, but no driving desire, no grinding endless need for sex. The heat’s backed off, although he wouldn't have known on his own if it was for minutes or hours.

“Good, I feel--fine,” he says, and nudges his head up hopefully under Julie’s hand, which twitches in startlement and then ruffles his hair and begins to stroke it again. Mike sighs and relaxes some, because that's better even if it's not quite enough.

“So what's got you wigglin’ around, if you don't need more lovin’?” Texas asks, and Mike kind of twitches.

“Oh, I--no, it's cool.” It is, he's good, they've already done so much for him, he doesn't need to be making any more demands.

Julie’s hand clenches in his hair and tugs sharply so Mike gasps, fingers digging into the mat under him as he stares up at her. “Mike,” she says. “Texas asked you a question. Are you going to answer it, or pretend we're idiots who don't notice when you're not telling us something?”

He looks away guiltily and Dutch says, “Hey, come on, go easy on him. The heat’s rough on his head.” One hand lands on his thigh just above the knee, pats gently, and Mike sighs again, eyes closing.

“She's right, though,” Chuck says, coming back over, and Mike yelps, eyes snapping open again, when a cold wet rag lands on his belly. Chuck snorts at him and starts scrubbing the drying sticky patch off his stomach, saying, “Just tell us what you need, bro, it's not complicated.”

Mike chews on his lip, trying to figure out what to say, and then Dutch pulls his hand away and Mike makes a noise of protest without even meaning to. Dutch blinks, cautiously puts the hand back on Mike’s leg and Mike sags.

“That,” he says, feeling really dumb as well as pushy. “Just… don't stop touchin’ me.”

“Aw, I'm sorry, man,” Dutch says, smiling a little. “You low on cuddles?”

Mike nods hopefully and Dutch chuckles, getting up on his knees to come closer, but before he can move, Texas says, “Hey, Texas is the _best_ at cuddles!” and pushes in front of him. Flopping down next to Julie, Texas shoves his hands under Mike’s back, half-lifting his upper half off the mat to hug him tight. Startled, Mike hugs him back, laughing, even as Chuck and Dutch make annoyed noises at Texas for getting in their way.

It helps a lot, pushes back the lonely tension that's been sneaking through him. Clinging, Mike buries his nose in Texas’s neck and breathes him in.

“Texas,” Dutch says, “remember that thing about _sharin’_ Mike equally? We can all cuddle him at the same time if you stop hoggin’ him.”

“Hey, this is _huggin’_ , not hogging!” Texas says, and Dutch gives an irritated huff.

Mike is about to say something to keep them from breaking into less friendly bickering when Julie says, “So, Mike,” and the intrigued note in her voice gets his full attention.

“Yeah?” he says as Texas lets him lie back on the mat.

She smiles down at him. “Last night you let me keep going even after the heat quit. Are you up for more right now, or should we just hold you?”

That smile, god. Mike swallows and nods fervently. Since the heat’s done for now, he won't be able to take a _lot_ more, but he's up for whatever she wants to do.

“More?” Julie says, and he keeps nodding. “Mm, nice,” she says, eyes gleaming, and glances around at the others. “All right, boys, your assignment is to finish getting Mike all marked up, like, all over. Deal?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Mike says, and lets out a hard breath.

“Texas can totally do that,” Texas says as the other two nod, grinning. “Uh. What are you gonna do, Li--J-Julie?”

Julie’s smile goes wider. “Oh, I thought I'd just--play around some. Since Mike’s already all slick and messy, I won't need any lube to get as many fingers in him as I want.”

Chuck makes a quiet little cracked noise and Mike moans, eyes wide.

Dutch coughs, sounding breathless when he says, “Yeah, okay.”

Texas is staring at Julie, mouth open. “Texas didn't think girls were sposed to like doin’ that kind of junk.”

Julie tilts her head to one side, smile gaining a hard edge. “What kind of junk? Sex?”

Texas frowns. “Naw, like, stickin’ fingers up people's butts.”

Chuck lets out a sort of dying wheeze and hides his face in his hands, ears turning red. Julie looks amused, to Mike’s relief.

“I did it to you,” she points out.

“Yeah,” Texas says, “but, like, that was just cuz you wanted a piece ‘a Texas and not his dick yet. You don't have a problem with Mike's dick, right?”

“I don't have a _problem_ with yours, either,” she says, patting him on the shoulder, “but this is fun.”

As Texas frowns over that, Julie moves around him and pats Mike on one thigh. “Spread your legs, cowboy.”

Mike doesn't even try to bite back the husky noise as he obeys. The heat may be over for the moment, but Julie’s complete confidence when she tells him what to do would get him going even if he was totally worn out, which he's not.

Dutch and Chuck spread out on one side of Mike with Texas on the other as Julie gets between Mike’s legs and runs a hand up his thigh. “You would've liked it better if we hadn't used condoms at all, wouldn't you,” she says. “Maybe next time we won't.”

Mike arches his neck, groaning at the thought.

Dutch is working a hickey onto Mike’s shoulder, and Texas visibly remembers what they're supposed to be doing and ducks to bite a mark into Mike’s pec. Chuck idly drops little kisses down Mike’s ribs and Mike shivers, gasping as Julie keeps talking.

“Maybe next time, we'll just rub off on you.” One fingertip presses into him, pulls out again as Mike lets out a breathless moan. “Get you wet like this all over,” Julie says, sliding her fingers over hot, sensitive skin, slick and dripping where Chuck was in him. “Rub it into your skin. Would you like that, cowboy?”

Mike’s hips twitch, pressing back against that teasing touch, but she keeps it light, keeps touching without pushing inside. “Yeah,” he pants, “god yeah, so much, I--please, Jules, just--please?”

“I did say I was going to play around,” she points out, and he whimpers and then groans as Texas bites down again and Dutch pauses to suck on one nipple.

They're all around him, his mates, his pack, naked and smelling of sweat and sex and contentment, smelling so good. He smells like them and they smell like him and each other, and they're touching him all over, marking him as theirs because they _want_ him. They want to keep him, they'd never (reject him declare him unfit failed wrong) throw him away, they _like_ him, think he's good enough, that he's good. He's _good_ and he's _theirs_ , and it feels so good that he's squirming under them already, gasping and groaning at every touch.

Chuck leaves marks across one hipbone and up along Mike’s stomach as Julie touches and teases and finally slides her fingers in. Texas bites and sucks all down Mike’s side and Dutch scatters marks across his chest. Mike shivers and whines, and when he bucks they hold him down and everything goes slow and hot and amazing.

Julie strokes back and forth across the sweet spot inside him, slow and sure, all slick and smooth and easy. Dutch is leaning on Mike's arm, pinning it to the mat as he nips and licks at Mike’s chest, and Texas is holding Mike’s other wrist down with one hand and keeping his hips still with the other, chewing marks into his thigh. Mike is pinned, overpowered, (not really, he could probably shake them off but it's fun to pretend), and his skin stings and tingles from the lips and teeth on him. He can tell now that the heat is done for the moment because he _wants_ , yeah, but it feels _good_. The desperate edge is gone, the driving need to go fast, get what he needs _now_.

Which is good, because from the way Julie’s teasing, he's not going to get it for a while.

Chuck reaches under Mike’s bent knee, brushes his fingers across where Julie’s are and says to her, “Hey, you mind if I--?”

“Feel free!” she says, smiling at him. 

Chuck nibbles on his lip, carefully pressing one long finger in alongside Julie’s, then snorts when Mike’s hips jolt upwards, and he and Texas push them down again. Mike makes a shivery noise, eyes wide.

“Hey, you doin’ okay, man?” Dutch asks, leaning over Mike, his dark eyes soft.

Mike manages a sort of dazed smile and a nod for him, because words aren't happening right now, not when everyone's hands and mouths are on his skin and Chuck and Julie have their fingers inside him, cooperating to drive him crazy.

“Good,” Dutch says, and kisses him. Mike’s too distracted to be good at it right now, but it's still really nice.

When Dutch pulls away to nip at Mike’s collarbone, Chuck makes a thoughtful noise, and a second later a warm tongue flicks over the head of Mike’s dick and his entire body jolts as he moans, sharp and loud. “Nice,” Chuck says, and does it again. The fingers in Mike are still teasing at that spot, good but way too slow, and Chuck isn't giving his dick the friction, the firm touch he needs, just little gentle licks all around the head.

It feels really, really good, it's just not _enough_ , which, now that someone is finally touching his dick, is maddening. So much for being able to wait for it. He whines, hips twitching up, and Chuck _tsks_ at him.

“Hey, Texas,” Chuck says, “can you--”

“Yeah, Texas is on it!” Texas says, sitting up to hold down both hips firmly. “Don't worry, Texas won't let him choke you or nothin’.”

“I wouldn't--” Mike tries to protest, except Chuck starts working the tip of his tongue in little circles on the head of Mike’s dick, and his hips jerk under Texas’s hands completely involuntarily as he gasps, fingers digging into the mat.

“Mm,” Julie says. “Nice. Hey, Chuck, can I--?”

“Yeah, totally!” Chuck says, and pulls back so Julie has room to lean in and lick curiously a little lower than where Chuck was. Mike groans, hips shivering under Texas’s hands.

“Huh,” Julie says, and licks again, her fingers hitching and pausing as she gets distracted. Mike whimpers.

“Fun, huh?” Chuck says.

Julie grins at him. “Yeah.” Looking up Mike’s body, she says, “All right, cowboy, you know the deal. Ask for what you want.”

Mike gasps for breath. “More? F-faster, harder? Just, keep goin’, please, feels good, want more…”

Chuck ducks to lick some more and Julie bites her lip. “Yeah?” she says, and curls her fingers hard inside him. Mike jerks at the weird, almost too-much spike of pleasure, clawing at the mat under him and panting.

“More, like this?” Julie says, moving rough and slow as she grinds across his prostate a few times, and Mike gasps and twitches, squeezing his eyes shut. “Or more, like you want to come?”

She lightens her touch but doesn't move any faster and Mike groans, tries to pull enough brain together to make words. “Yeah, please, wanna come!”

“You want us to _make_ you come,” Julie says, and Mike arches as a shudder goes through him. God, why is that so much hotter?

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely, and Dutch huffs softly against his shoulder.

“You guys have gotta stop bein’ so crazy hot,” Dutch mutters. “I'm not set up for this.”

“Your mistake signing up for the orgy, then,” Chuck snorts, and sucks very gently on the tip of Mike’s dick, getting a wavering whine in response.

Texas breathes out hard through his nose. “Hey, Texas could totally take care of that whole problem if you guys moved outta the way,” he says to Chuck, and Mike notices the edgy way he's shifting.

“What problem?” Chuck says, frowning, and Texas huffs and takes a hand away from holding Mike down to wave pointedly at Mike’s dick.

“Tiny wants to get somewhere already and Texas can make that happen!”

“Dude, Mike’s enjoying this,” Chuck says, and starts sucking again so Mike bucks against Texas’s hold, moaning.

“He _totally_ just said he wanted to come!” Texas says, glaring.

“Yeah, he did,” Julie says, “and we're gonna make him come as soon as he begs for it nicely.”

Mike can't even try to hold back the shivering whine.

“Oh,” Texas says. “But, like, what about Texas?”

“You've got two hands,” Chuck mutters without lifting his head.

“No no no,” Mike says urgently, “give, let, lemme.” His hand is right by Texas’s knee anyway, and when he reaches out, Texas’s eyes widen and he hastily shifts closer until Mike can wrap a hand around his dick and stroke.

“Look at you bein’ all sweet and helpful,” Dutch says in Mike’s ear, and leans over to kiss him again. Mike moans into it, because it's just, this is a lot; Texas rocking into his hand and Chuck’s and Julie’s fingers in him and Chuck’s mouth on him and Dutch’s clever tongue stroking against Mike’s. For a moment it all crashes over him at once and he arches, shuddering, thinking he might come just from this. Then it dies away again, leaving him sweaty and gasping for breath, hand stuttering on Texas’s dick.

“Please,” Mike says as soon as Dutch pulls away, “please, Jules, please lemme come, feels so good--”

“Let you?” Julie says.

Mike lets out a hard breath. “Make me,” he says hoarsely, and rocks down against her fingers, head rolling back on the mat. “M-make me come, _please_ , I want it, need to, please Jules.”

Julie licks her lips, thrusts into him faster for a few strokes. “What about Chuck? He's helping too.”

“Oh,” Chuck says, voice cracking. “Oh, no, that's okay, he doesn't have to.”

“Too much?” Julie asks.

Chuck ducks his head, hiding behind his bangs. “No,” he says, low and shy. “It just, that's not--he doesn't…”

Yeah, he doesn't have to, and probably Chuck thinks he wouldn't _want_ to, for some reason, but that's because he's a dork. Mike drags in air and gasps, “Chuckles, please, I need it, please make me come, please?”

“Oh my god,” Chuck says, high-pitched. “Okay, bro, I got you--we got you,” he corrects, glancing at Julie, who smiles. Then they're moving together, thrusting into him in a quick rhythm as Chuck goes down on him again, a little farther this time, and Mike has to lock his muscles to keep from bucking up into Chuck’s mouth. Texas isn't holding him down anymore, understandably distracted as Mike jerks him off, and Mike's not gonna choke Chuck, that'd be bad.

God it's hard not to, though, hard to hold still--and hard to keep stroking Texas fast and steady while Julie and Chuck are working Mike over so thoroughly. He's shaking in minutes, hand moving erratically until Texas wraps his own hand around Mike's and sets the rhythm himself. Dutch just hangs out, running fingers through Mike's hair and occasionally tugging.

Mike is gasping, drawn hot and tight with how close he is to the edge, when Texas groans and jerks and there's a warm wet spatter on Mike's side, and it smells like _sex, Texas, mate_ , and it's on his skin, marking him, and Mike shudders apart, crying out.

When he can comprehend anything again, Julie’s stroking his thigh and Chuck has a hand on Mike’s ribs, thumb rubbing idly back and forth. Dutch is still stroking Mike’s hair, and Texas--

“Dude, that's so gross,” Chuck mutters.

“Tiny totally said he was into it!” Texas says, working the last sticky spot into Mike’s skin, and Mike sighs, husky and pleased, wiggling a little. That's _so good_ , smelling like his mates.

Chuck snorts quietly and leans past Dutch to kiss Mike. “Wer are weird and you're a dork,” he says when he pulls back, grinning at Mike, and Mike grins back, completely satisfied. Chuck is happy and the others are happy and Mike is happy, everything's awesome. 

“Don't be a bigot, Skinny,” Texas says sternly. “Wer got stuff about smells and it's real important and you can't just be like ‘that's dumb’ just cuz you don't get it.”

Chuck huffs and straightens up in annoyance, opening his mouth, and Mike says quickly, “Hey Tex, how bout you come cuddle me.”

“Heck yeah, _Texas_ cuddles!” Texas says, and flops down next to Mike with an arm across Mike's chest. It's really nice. More cuddles would be even better.

Just as he's looking hopefully around at the rest of them, Julie sighs. “Unfortunately, I should’ve been back in Deluxe already. I gotta get going, sorry guys.”

Mike tenses inwardly, waiting for the miserable insecurity that came over him earlier when any of his mates left his sight. He can ignore it, he can deal; Julie has to go, she doesn't have a choice.

This time, though, the twitchy unhappiness doesn't come. He doesn't want her to go, but that's because he'll miss her and he worries about her up there with only Claire to watch her back. Normal stuff, not wer-in-heat neediness.

“You okay, bro?” Chuck murmurs, and Mike nods hastily. Maybe he didn't hide that uncertain moment as well as he thought.

“Good! So,” Julie says, moving up beside Texas, “you boys take care of Mike while I'm gone.” She leans over Texas to kiss Mike, which is very nice although it could've gone on longer, then straightens up.

“Your boob touched Texas,” Texas tells her, wide-eyed.

“Well, I hope Texas enjoyed it,” she says, looking amused, and stands. “Have a nice hug pile, I'm stealing the shower.”

She gathers her stuff and walks out naked, which is fair since the bathroom is one door down across the hall and Jacob’s got no reason to come up here even if he's home yet, but uh. It's still an image. Naked Julie walking down the hall.

“So, Mike,” says Dutch as Chuck stares at the closed door like he's seeing the picture behind it just like Mike is. “You want us to get in on this, too?”

Mike blinks out of it and smiles up at him. “That'd be _great_ ,” he says.

“Hey, Texas is a great cuddler!” Texas protests.

“Yeah, you totally are, big guy,” Mike says, nuzzling into his hair. “I just want all the cuddles I can get.”

Mollified, Texas settles down as Chuck and Dutch try to figure out how to share Mike’s other side. Chuck ends up lying against Mike, pink in the face as Dutch snuggles up behind him, one arm over Chuck to drape across Mike’s waist. It's really, really nice. (It'd be better if Julie was still here, but Mike can hug her more later, he's not complaining.)

Mike closes his eyes and enjoys the scent of his mates around him, their calm breathing and their warmth against his skin.

After a bit he hears the shower turn off, and a few minutes later, light footsteps going down the stairs. Julie's leaving, but it's okay, he'll see her again later.

A while after that, Chuck breaks the silence. “Geez,” he mutters, “I need a shower so bad.”

Mike bursts out laughing. “Think I've got you beat there, buddy.”

Chuck snorts at him, grinning. “Well, _yeah_ , Mikey. You kind of made sure you would.”

“Yup,” Mike says, “it was _great_. And… now I think I'm gonna get clean.” He drops quick kisses on Texas and Chuck before they can react, wriggles out from under them and leans over to kiss Dutch. Bouncing to his feet, he skins back into his shorts and grabs a change of clothes.

“Man,” Dutch says, leaning up on one elbow, “how do you have so much energy after all that? That's just not right.”

“Wer bounce back fast,” Mike says with a grin, and ducks through the door, closing it again behind him.

Julie left the bathroom door open. Mike’s attention is caught by his reflection in the mirror before he can get caught up thinking about her.

Flat human teeth, brown eyes, his hair is an amazing mess, and holy smokes, when Julie told the others to mark him up _all over_ , they took her seriously. His neck is mottled with hickies, they're all over his chest, his shoulders, his stomach-- _wow_. Grinning open-mouthed, he kicks the bathroom door closed and drops his shorts to get the full effect, alternating staring down at himself with craning in the mirror to see them all.

It puts a deep, warm satisfaction in his gut, pleases something instinctual in the animal part of him, to be so thoroughly marked by his mates as _theirs_. Thinking about it makes him shiver and sigh. He's so lucky. They're so great.

And having their marks all across his skin is going to help a lot right now, when he has to wash their scents off him. He doesn't much want to, they're his mates and his pack and he's _supposed_ to smell like them, but he also really likes being clean, and he's covered with dried sweat and lube and stuff, and instincts or not, he's not spending the rest of the day like this.

Grinning to himself and still kind of dreamy, Mike climbs in the shower.

*

The rest of the day is pretty great! Mike takes Texas out for a late lunch and then drags him into the rec room and cues up an old kung fu movie Chuck dug up from some archives. Texas gets into it like he always does, yelling advice at the good guys and threats at the bad guys, but he also keeps glancing sideways at Mike, these little checks to make sure Mike’s still listening, still smiling at him, still thinks he's funny and cool.

Mike gives up and kisses him like halfway through, and the making out gets heated before Texas stops and says, “Nope, no, we gotta finish the date before Texas puts out, Tiny, that's how it works.”

Mike isn't about to argue that Texas already put out, especially because he only did it for Mike’s sake because of the heat. So they pull their clothes straight and rewind the bit they missed and finish the movie, which is kinda weird but fun. While the credits are rolling, Mike catches Texas nervously fiddling with his hat brim, so then he has to kiss him again, and this time Texas doesn't stop the makeouts. Mike gets on his knees and blows him, and Texas gives Mike a hand job and looks at him all soft and intense, mumbling something half-coherent about trying to be the _best_ mate, and Mike goes all warm and glowing inside.

When they come out of the rec room disheveled and grinning, Chuck gives them one look and groans. Apparently having more sex between rounds of heat can shift the timing of the next onset--not by that long, maybe an hour at most--and that screws up Chuck’s measurement of how effective the sleeping-with-all-the-mates technique was.

“Your dormant period was a little under _five hours_ , Mikey! If it's six now, we have _no_ idea if that's thanks to our experiment or solely because _Texas_ can't keep it in his pants!”

“Texas totally _can_ keep it in his pants--” Texas starts angrily, and Mike puts a calming hand on his shoulder, steps forward, and kisses the heck out of Chuck. Chuck makes a muffled annoyed sound and tries to resist for a moment, but not very hard, and then he whimpers and pretty much melts.

Mike finishes it off with a gentle smooch and pulls away, smiling at him. “We didn't know, buddy, can't fix it now. But hey, that'd still be a pretty short dormant period, right? Let's hope it's longer than that.”

Flushed and hiding behind his bangs, Chuck huffs at him, but doesn't argue.

Jacob found whatever the herb stuff was that Chuck sent him out looking for this morning, and hands the little dropper bottles over to Mike with instructions for how much to take and how often. Unsurprisingly, they taste kind of nasty, and Mike secretly decides to only bother taking them if it turns out his heat hasn't already been fixed. Otherwise, he figures, it’s unnecessary suffering.

He spends a couple hours working on Mutt with Chuck and Dutch, sorting out some issues with the targeting system, and then just as he's about to try asking Chuck if he wants to go out for dinner, the stupid alarms go off. So the Burners go tearing out to fight Kanebots with empty, rumbling stomachs, which is annoying. Mutt’s targeting works fine now, though, and Nine Lives shows up halfway through to help out, so they clean up the bots with only a little trouble. 

Then Julie has to get back up there, and Dutch takes off to see Tennie, and Texas heads off somewhere, and it's just Mike and Chuck sitting in Mutt alone. And it's dumb to be nervous when he already knows how Chuck feels about him, especially when they had _sex_ earlier, but he still kind of is.

“So, hey,” he says, and licks his lips. “Can I take you to dinner?”

Chuck makes a startled squeaky noise and turns red, and Mike's smile fades when he realizes Chuck is huddling down in his seat, not looking over. It takes him a long moment to answer.

“I really want to,” he mumbles finally. “But, bro, it's close to eight, I'd be freaking out the whole time waiting for your heat to kick in again. Can we just get takeout, go home?”

Mike lets out his breath in a whoosh and laughs, shaking his head. “Geez, dude, don't worry me like that! ‘Course we can, what do you feel like?”

They get takeout from Chuck’s favorite place and eat it sitting next to each other in the diner booth back at the hideout, talking about nothing in particular, teasing and elbowing each other and laughing. Mike is enjoying it, and Chuck seems to be too except after a while he starts getting a distracted look and tapping his palms gently together like he wants to pull up a screen and is barely resisting.

Mike gives him a rueful grin. “‘M I distracting you from something, Chuckles?”

“Oh--no! I'm fine, haha, I was listening!”

Mike drops an arm around his shoulders. “It's just me, dude, I'm not gonna be mad if you want to do something else.”

“Well, but…” Chuck hunches. “This was supposed to be our date,” he mumbles, ears turning pink. “I don't wanna screw it up.”

Mike kind of wants to lick his face, which Chuck never appreciates, so Mike leans in to kiss his cheek instead. “How ‘bout we do _another_ date once we figure my timing out so you don't have to worry about it? And we can go out and do something fun together, I'll take you to the Arcade or something.”

Chuck perks up. “Ooh, seriously, bro? Like, can we afford that?”

“We totally can,” Mike says, warmed by his excitement. “And right now, you can do whatever you're itchin’ to get back to--” he stops, struck with a brilliant idea. “So long as I get scritches.”

Chuck snorts at him. “As long as you don't crush me, you big furry lump.”

“Hey, I am _super_ pretty and graceful,” Mike says, grinning, and shifts shape. Once on all fours, he jumps out of the booth to shake himself vigorously, getting his pelt in order, and then Chuck is standing up, saying there's not enough room in the booth for both of them, which there totally is, but Mike trots after him to a couch in the rec room anyway. Chuck flops down and Mike bounces onto the couch and demurely lays his head on Chuck’s thigh.

Chuck brings up his screens and starts working. Mike gives him a few minutes before _whuff_ ing pointedly, and Chuck blinks and snickers and rubs Mike’s ears.

“I got an idea, see, and I was afraid I was gonna forget it,” he says, and goes on to explain the idea with enthusiastic hand waving. Mike doesn't understand a word of the programming stuff, but he likes Chuck being all happy and excited and telling him about it, and even if Chuck keeps forgetting to pat him Mike is still next to him, they're still close and warm and touching. Mike dozes off with Chuck’s hand in his ruff, distractedly scritching, then darting up to type for a spate, then falling still on Mike again.

Being in wolf-shape is nice because Mike can relax in a way he usually can't manage in human form, just something about the way he's wired. He naps on and off, gets up to patrol the hideout a few times, sniff around the corners of the garage, check that everything's cool. Then he comes back, flops over Chuck’s lap to whine until the proper amount of scritches happen, and naps some more.

He wakes for good when Chuck shakes him a little. “Mikey, you okay? You were whining in your sleep.”

Mike scrabbles out of Chuck’s lap, sneezes, and shifts human. Then he looks over at Chuck as heat swells through him, and gives a sheepish grimace, flashing teeth that stayed just a little too sharp after the shift.

Chuck brushes back his hair and looks Mike over with wide hazel eyes, nodding. “Dude, this is pretty good! That's almost nine hours since the end of your last round! Even if it's only eight without the interval you and Texas added, that's still pretty sustainable for three of us!”

“Hey, yeah, cool!” Mike says, shifting his weight restlessly. “So hey,” he says, leaning in, and gets distracted kissing Chuck for a minute, long and hot and pleased until Chuck finally pushes him back, gasping and pink in the face. Mike tries to remember what he was going to say.

Oh yeah! “Hey, do you wanna?”

Chuck huffs softly. “ _Want_ to, yes, but uh, I think maybe you should ask Texas, bro. He seemed like he could manage another few rounds today. I'll, um, get to bed early, I guess, so I'll be ready for when you rev up again. Does that… sound okay?”

“Does it ever,” Mike breathes, and kisses the edge of his jaw when Chuck turns his face to take his mouth out of reach. Chuck squeaks.

“I'll be lookin’ forward to it,” Mike says, smiling at him. “You will too, right?”

“Oh my god, Mikey,” Chuck groans. “I'm gonna be lucky if I can even sleep, thinking about it!”

“So long as it's a _good_ thing to think about,” Mike says firmly.

“Yeah,” Chuck says, voice hushed. “It's… definitely a good thing.”

“Cool,” Mike says, ducks in to sneak another quick kiss, and heads off to find Texas.

Texas is very happyto help Mike out again, although he doesn't completely manage to hide his relief when it only takes an hour this time. Mike sleeps really, really soundly, and when he wakes up at eight, has plenty of time for breakfast and a morning shower before the heat kicks up again. Instead of bothering to get up and dressed himself, a warm and sleep-tousled Chuck just drags Mike into his bed, which makes an awesome start to the day.

Heat, Mike thinks, is pretty cool sometimes.


	8. Epilogue

The Burner boys have been driving around all morning spraying Jacob's weed killer on the angry mounds of Terra vines that have shown up overnight in various places around the outskirts of the city. Texas took care of the last reported batch, and no one's spotted any more, so after another half-hour of searching just to be sure, Mike calls it good and they head back to the hideout.

Chuck is keeping one eye on Mike and the other on his screens. He's been able to stop stressing so much over the possibility of the latest round of Mike's heat revving up in the middle of a mission since a couple of days ago, when it actually happened and wasn't a disaster. Chuck didn't even know Mike was having a problem until they finished taking care of the HOUNDs, and then on the drive back he was shifting in the driver's seat, all flushed with his jaw set, and Chuck figured it out.

Granted, as soon as they parked in the garage, Mike climbed into his lap and could barely wait for Chuck to grab the lube out of the glove compartment before jumping on his dick, but the point is, he was _able_ to focus on the mission and wait that long, which means Chuck doesn't need to constantly obsess over the time. He still keeps track of how long it's been since the last round ended, but that's just sensible.

Thanks to keeping track, he's aware that it's now been twelve hours since Mike’s last round of heat. That's not long enough to say for certain that it's not coming back, but it's definitely notable.

They get back to the hideout and Dutch catches Mike's eye on the way up to the diner. “How you doin’, man, you need anything yet?”

Mike shrugs and shakes his head cheerfully. “Nah, still good!”

Dutch nods. Chuck sees him frown a little as Mike turns away, and Dutch calls, “Hey, Texas, when did you say you guys finished up last night?”

“Uh, I dunno,” Texas says with a broad shrug, “like, late. Midnight or something--hey, Tiny! You wanna come see Texas do this totally awesome trick?”

“Sure, Tex! It was like, one,” Mike says, looking back to Dutch, who catches Chuck's eye.

Chuck nods, pulling up a screen as he sits down at the diner bar. “This isn't conclusive or anything, but it's been twelve hours, which is two hours longer than your longest dormant period so far. It's still too early to be sure--”

“It's done,” Mike says, wide-eyed. “You think the heat’s over.”

Chuck huffs, because he totally _just said_ \-- “It's _possible_. It could also be a really long dormant period because you're getting _close_ to the end and your hormone levels are easing up. We'll obviously have to wait and see.”

“Okay but I think you're right,” Mike says, looking from him to Dutch to Texas with an expression that's half excitement and half uncertainty. “I think it might be gone.”

“Wait,” Texas says. “Gone, like, till tomorrow, or--”

“Done for the year, man,” Dutch says. “Finished, we got him through it.”

“Oh,” Texas says. “So, like. Tiny's not gonna need it all the time anymore?”

“Yeah,” Mike says. “If it's done, then--you guys can decide for yourselves when, you know, you're interested in something.”

“Mike,” Dutch starts in an exasperated tone, and Texas says at the same time, “'Kay, but we're still your mates an’ junk, right?”

On the one hand, it's a ridiculous question, because Mike’s hardly the kind of guy to make a choice like that and then change his mind a week later when the pressure’s off. On the other hand, Chuck is really glad someone else brought it up, because his anxiety has been lying in wait for Mike's heat to end, wondering the same thing, and he wouldn't have been able to get the words out.

Mike stares at Texas. “Of course you are, dude.” He looks to Dutch, over to Chuck. “I'm not gonna change my mind about wanting you guys just because I'm out of heat, geez. Just, now I won't be such a needy mess all the time, gettin’ you guys to help me out.”

“Mike!” Dutch says. “How many friggin’ times do we have to--”

“I know!” Mike says. “I know you don't mind, okay, it's just--it's how I feel.”

“Cuz you're a doofus,” Dutch sighs, but he's smiling.

“Okay, cool,” Texas says briskly, ignoring the rest. “So Mike’s good now cuz Texas fixed his problem, got it.”

“Oh, right,” Chuck muttered, flicking the screen away again, “fixed it all by himself, uh-huh.”

“Texas could totally keep goin’ for like another week, no problem,” Texas says to Mike, sounding a little anxious, “only, like, you'd probably hit Texas Overload an’ die from too much awesomeness, and that'd suck.”

“I don't think you have to worry about that, buddy,” Mike says with a grin, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “I'm immune to Texas Overload. And I'm pretty sure someone said the longest that heat usually lasts is a week, so you wouldn't have to deal with this for _that_ much longer, just a day or two.”

“Right, yeah,” Texas says. “Texas could keep blowin’ your mind for that long, sure! If you needed it, but you don't need it, so, cool. Come on, you gotta see Texas's trick!”

Mike lets himself be dragged away and the diner suddenly seems very quiet and peaceful, as usual when Texas leaves.

“Okay,” Dutch says, staring after the two of them. “Is it just me, or is Texas just about as relieved as I am?”

“It's not just you,” Chuck says, turning on his stool to lean back against the bar. “Someone was definitely running out of steam.”

“I mean, not like he was the only one,” Dutch says ruefully. “You were totally right in the first place, man, there is no _way_ I woulda survived this every four hours. Once a day was brutal enough. I got nothin’ left for Tennie!” He gives Chuck a little smile. “Or, y’know, anyone else.”

Even as his eyes widen and his cheeks warm, Chuck is _fully_ aware how ridiculous his reaction is. He's already had _sex_ with Dutch, for fuck’s sake, it's stupid to be blushing over the mildest suggestion of interest. Even if it was kind of different with everyone else there, and they've only kissed like twice since then.

“Oh,” he squeaks.

Dutch's smile broadens and he comes closer, leaning over to bracket Chuck with his arms, pinning him against the bar. “Haven't heard _you_ complain about bein’ worn out, though,” Dutch says. “You gotta be tired out like the rest of us, right?”

“Ah,” Chuck says, hot-faced and aware in every inch of him just how close Dutch is standing. “Um. I mean. I guess… some people, um, have overactive libidos? And this week has been, I just--I acclimated, okay?!”

“Oh yeah?” Dutch is grinning, his face inches from Chuck. “Is _that_ what it is.”

Chuck gulps, hesitates a second, and closes the distance in a quick lunge before he can change his mind, and Dutch hums softly against his lips and kisses back. It's slow but deep, and Chuck is breathing hard and definitely kind of distracted by the time Dutch pulls back.

“Dang, you weren't kiddin’,” Dutch says, eyebrows lifting. “You're ready to go, aren't you.”

“No!” Chuck squawks, face burning. “I--no, I'm fine!” He goes to swivel away and hop off his stool and Dutch doesn't try to stop him, just shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I didn't mean, uh,” he starts, and when Chuck dares a glance at him he's looking kind of sheepish. “Hey, you're the one who knocked me over with one kiss that first night, okay? I'm just happy about the payback, is all.”

Chuck huffs at him, still prickling all over with embarrassment.

“Come on, man,” Dutch says more softly. “You gotta know I wasn't makin’ fun of you or anything. I'm just surprised, you know, like, that's some kind of stamina you got there!”

Chuck gives him a cautious look and he seems serious, not hiding anything. Dutch didn't bother to hide it before when he _was_ making fun of Chuck, but now they're… sort of maybe dating, it might be different.

“Can I get another kiss?” Dutch says, and Chuck hunches a little.

“You're gonna make it worse,” he mumbles, and Dutch looks perplexed for a moment. Then Chuck shifts uncomfortably and Dutch's eyes flicker down to his crotch and widen. “Dutch!” Chuck hisses, mortified.

“Hey, relax,” Dutch says, grinning. “It's cool, man, I can help you out with that too.”

“You--but I thought you were--” Chuck waves an inarticulate hand for _tired_ , _not up for that_.

“I didn't say it was gonna be mutual,” Dutch says wryly. “But I can definitely give you a hand, that's no problem.”

Chuck nibbles his lip, uncertain.

“Lemme rephrase that,” Dutch says. “I'd _love_ to give you a hand, if you let me. 'Kay?”

“Okay,” Chuck says, low-voiced. God, his face is so hot he's got to be bright red.

“Nice,” Dutch says, stepping forward, and Chuck squeaks and skitters backwards.

“Not yet! I, I gotta call Julie!”

Dutch's eyebrows arch. “What, she's got first dibs?”

“Oh my god _no!_ I just--the _heat!_ ” Chuck gets out. “It's, she ought to know it's over!”

“Oh,” Dutch says, “yeah, good call. Cool.”

“Okay!” Chuck says. “Good.” He jitters a minute, not sure if he really ought to call her right now or what, but Dutch is looking expectant so--okay, might as well.

It takes her a few minutes to pick up, but she doesn't look tense or anything when she does, so Chuck stops worrying about having interrupted at a bad time. “Hey guys,” she says, as Dutch peers over Chuck's shoulder. “What's up?”

“Well, we can't be sure yet,” Chuck starts, and Dutch cuts in, “We think the heat's done!” Chuck glares back at him and Dutch shrugs at him.

“Oh!” Julie says. “Well, darn. I was stuck up here for way too much of it.” She brushes her hair over her shoulder, lips pressed together in annoyance.

“There's always next year,” Dutch offers.

“True!” Julie says, smiling. “Maybe then I'll pretend to have holed up with Claire for a week of girl time. I'd hate to not do my part in wearing Mike out,” she adds, eyes wide and virtuous. “It's just not fair to you guys.”

“Real generous of you,” Dutch says dryly.

“We, um, we did okay,” Chuck mumbles, and hastily clears his throat before Dutch can tease him about being disappointed like Julie--which he's not! He's perfectly okay not having lots of sex with Mike on a daily basis, that's fine!

“Anyway,” he says before his brain can get hung up on sex with Mike, “I'm thinking it's not too soon to start thinking about next year, you know? Like, yeah, come up with a cover story for you,” he nods to Julie, “maybe draw up a schedule--”

“Stock up on lube, buy some new toys,” Julie said, nodding seriously enough that Chuck nods too before he catches himself and glares. “Decide which toys we're gonna use on him, in which order--”

“Julie!” Chuck yelps as Dutch bursts out laughing. “Come on, I was serious!”

“Man, it's _way_ too soon to start worryin’ about all that,” Dutch says, still snickering.

“I'm not about to stop you looking forward to it,” Julie agrees, grinning, “but personally, I'm not waiting a year to try out more fun ideas. Mike better be ready when I get down there with some time to spare… and actually, so should you,” she adds to Chuck.

“Uh,” Chuck says, mind going completely blank as he stares at her, wide-eyed.

“Girl, don't break him,” Dutch complains, glancing at whatever expression he's wearing. “Just cuz you're not here right now doesn't mean the rest of us don't want some fun.”

“Aw, he's not broken,” Julie says, “he'll be _fine_. He's a lot tougher than he looks.” She gives Chuck a sly smile that's just _totally_ not fair on top of everything else, then glances over her shoulder and sighs. “Gotta go!” she says, and the line closes.

Chuck scrubs his hands over his hot face, trying to restart his brain. When he looks around, Dutch is grinning at him.

“So. You want that hand now?”

Chuck licks his lips. “So, we're--you really want to do this.”

Dutch frowns a little in puzzlement before he gets it. “Oh--this, the relationship thing? Yeah, man,” he says, and smiles, easy and relaxed, not impatient or annoyed at repeating himself. Not pointing out that they already had this talk, that Chuck shouldn't need the reminder.

“Oh,” Chuck says, stupidly.

Dutch hesitates, smile going unsure. “ _You_ havin’ second thoughts?”

“No!” Chuck says. “No, I--no.” He takes a breath, pulls himself together and adds, only a little squeaky, “I definitely want to date you, that's not, um, in question.”

“Cool,” Dutch says softly, relieved. He leans in, slow enough that Chuck doesn't startle, and kisses him gently. Chuck lets out a shaky sigh against his lips and just--gives in. Goes after what he wants, deepening the kiss, stepping forward and grinding against Dutch's hip until Dutch makes a muffled noise and pulls back with a breathless laugh.

“You ready to maybe go take care of that?” he asks.

“God, yes,” Chuck says fervently.

“My room,” Dutch suggests. “Been waiting to see you laid out on my bed for days now. Sound good?”

Chuck makes a choked noise, staring. _Laid out on my bed_ , oh _wow_ , okay. He nods.

Dutch grins, eyes bright and warm on him. “Let's go.”


End file.
